The Faction That Sparked Him
by LStarrunner
Summary: Chapter 5 now up! Amid resource decisions that Optimus Prime, Prowl, and Ratchet have waited too long to make, a mutiny within the Decepticon ranks inadvertently grants Starrunner's greatest wish: Cobweb and he are reunited. PG. G1. Finished!
1. Skimming the Surface

_Skimming the Surface_

Universe: loosely G1 and the cartoon after the appearance of the Constructicons on Earth. Assumes the Ark is in Oregon so about 8 hours earlier there than at the scene.

Rated: PG - what is that, now? K+.

Pairing: none. Well, Jazz/Prowl in the background, if you squint really hard.

Author's Notes: Recognizable Characters/Names belong to Hasbro/Takara. I'm just playing with them. My airborne Starrunner makes his first appearance - he's not me just a namesake, one of my offspring. 4291 words.

-:-radio transmission-:-

* * *

"We are wasting more energy hovering here than we're collecting, wise _leader_," Starscream sniped in his most aggravating tone. 

"You will follow my orders, Starscream, as closely as you try my patience," Megatron rumbled, scanning the horizon for any sign of observers. He had three Seekers in the air as sentries, two over land and the other over the ocean, but he knew well how easily they could overlook the very company he wanted. "Instead of grousing about my incompetence, you could turn that _astonishing_ intellect of yours to deducing my motives for hovering with you over this..." he gestured disdainfully at the expanse of silt and mangrove stands, crisscrossed with rivulets as the Niger river poured into the Atlantic, "this briny swamp."

-X-X-X-

-:-Cosmos to Ark, come in Ark-:-

Jazz's voice: -:-Report, Cosmos m'man.-:-

Cosmos: -:-Decepticon activity detected. It appears to be Megatron and four Seekers. Transmitting coordinates.-:-

Jazz: -:-Three, there're three. Coordinates received. I'll relay 'em to Teletraan, see if we can't work out what they're after an' maybe crash their party. Keep an eye on 'em, Cosmos. Jazz out.-:-

Cosmos: -:-Aye. Cosmos out.-:-

-X-X-X-

"Why can't you bring Soundwave on decoy duty? My talents are _wasted_ here," whined the air commander, sloppily transferring the siphon line to another waiting transport cube and subspacing the full one.

"You don't find this sweet crude to your liking?" Megatron condescended, smirking at Starscream. "I'm certain Soundwave and his Casseticons would appreciate your share of the energon it yields."

-:-Lord Megatron? Starrunner. Five unidentified Cybertronians approach by air from the west. Shall I hail them?-:-

Megatron smiled - he had to thank Shockwave for training his new Seeker to use that form of address which was Shockwave's own habit. -:-No, do not engage, just watch them. Let me know when they are within my reach.-:- He scanned the air again.

-:-Yes, Lord Megatron.-:-

"We'll barely get enough energon from this to have even fueled our flight out here! Not nearly enough to justify all four of us as your bodyguard, _Lord Megatron_," Starscream reiterated his complaint, trying to keep from sounding too amused. He very much enjoyed the quality-time in the air, and any excuse to aggravate Megatron. Even Starrunner's incessant formality couldn't sully that. In fact, he thought it made a pleasant counterpoint to their banter. They'd been spending far too much time lately holed up in their spaceship-turned-underwater-base. Even the humidity and the salt couldn't ruin his - actually all the Seekers' - enjoyment of being airborne again. The night was cloudy and damp, but the wind off the ocean was a pleasant change from the stuffiness of their base.

Before Megatron could address Starscream's last comment, their radios crackled again. -:-Lord Megatron. Starrunner. The contacts are Dinobots. They should be within your visual range shortly. Approaching from 250 degrees, heading straight for your position. Please advise.-:-

-:-Have they seen us?-:- Starscream broke in without preamble.

Thundercracker overrode Starrunner's response: -:-Nah, they're bearin' down on a coordinate. They haven't made us yet!-:-

Skywarp had to chime in: -:-One thing at a time - that's all their processors can handle!-:- Thundercracker cackled appreciatively over the comm line.

Megatron addressed them all: -:-Remain aloft and out of visual range, let them think they're dealing only with Starscream and myself.-:- Over the grumbling of Thundercracker and Skywarp and a gratifying 'yes-lord-megatron' from Starrunner, he addressed Starscream. "Sensors at full range but keep your optics on the energon, Starscream. Let them believe they surprised us."

-X-X-X-

"STOP!" bellowed Grimlock as soon as he thought he was in audio range of Megatron and Starscream. "Me Grimlock see you Decepticons steal oil. We Dinobots stop you Megatron!"

-X-X-X-

-:-Cosmos to Ark, come in Ark-:-

Sunstreaker had taken over for Jazz in the afternoon: -:-Spill it, Cosmos.-:-

Cosmos: -:-Dinobots in need of assistance. They engaged the Decepticons in Dinosaur- mode. Only Sludge and Swoop are still mobile. They are holding off Skywarp and Thundercracker as best they can, but only Swoop can actively pursue the Decepticons. I read an unidentified Seeker circling at high altitude---:-

Sunstreaker was too excited to listen to any more details of Cosmos' report: -:-That'll be Starscream. No problem. We're on our way! Keep 'em in sight! Ark out.-:-

Cosmos: -:-Aye. Cosmos out.-:-

With glee Sunstreaker brought up a window on his LAN console that rang Ironhide at his desk. As soon as Ironhide answered, looking bored but still bothered by the intrusion on his routine, Sunstreaker started in. "The Dinobots are stuck! Get Prime up to speed, 'Hide, and let's go get some action! Megatron himself's there with his Crows."

-X-X-X-

Disappointed (but not surprised) that he was not invited to participate, Sunstreaker was not above watching what he could from his post. Being on Blaster's Comm Duty Roster had to have some perks!

"Let's take a moment to evaluate the scenario logically," Prowl said as he joined Prime, Ironhide and Jazz in Prime's office. "If even the Dinobots are unable to free themselves from the mangrove swamp we must have a plan before we get there."

"Skyfire?" Ironhide suggested.

"We'll need him to get us there quickly," Prime mused, "but he's even heavier than the Dinobots so he has to stay airborne..."

"And ill-equipped to pull them out of their predicament in alt-mode," Prowl added. "Get me Skyfire, Trailbreaker and Seaspray. And Bumblebee."

Ironhide went back to his own console to summon the listed Autobots. Sunstreaker slumped in disappointment - he was so bored with the quiet of the last several weeks that he'd nearly picked a fight with the Dinobots himself, just to relieve the tension. Sideswipe said he had a death-wish.

"That sounds like a decent rescue party but won'tcha need some serious fighters in the mix?" Jazz drawled, leaning back in his seat. Sunstreaker found it funny that the camera in Prime's office showed Jazz, Prowl and the door to Ironhide's office perfectly but not a hint of Prime himself; he suspected that Prime had it set that way on purpose so security could monitor only what came into his office. Jazz continued, seemingly making optic contact with Prime near the camera, "Megs and the Crows are there. Only Swoop holdin' 'em off the rest." He paused and cocked his head back to look up at Prowl who stood behind his chair. "4-to-1's not odds I like for 'im."

"Correct. Swoop's probability of success drops with each passing breem." Prowl paused, then turned toward the door to Ironhide's office. "Ironhide, get the Lamborghinis."

Sunstreaker whooped excitedly at his post.

-X-X-X-

Prowl went over the plan with the assembly in Skyfire's hold en route to rescue the Dinobots and stop the pilfering of more Nigerian oil. Optimus Prime brought everyone who knew about the situation, leaving Cliffjumper to take up the remainder of Sunstreaker's comm watch. The Minibot had not been pleased with the order to start his comm shift early because the Lamborghini had been mysteriously reassigned. Sunstreaker smirked at the memory of Cliffjumper's anger. Even though he hadn't done anything himself to cause it this time, he enjoyed seeing the little slagger ticked off. Sorta reminded him of Sideswipe...

"Sunstreaker? Pay attention, Sunstreaker," Prowl interrupted his thoughts. "If you want to keep your finish intact you have to understand what we're getting into."

"Yeah, I got it," Sunstreaker resumed the scowl that was his habit for everyone but his brother and stared pointedly at the deck. "Salt water and mud, weird trees, oily surface. We fight off Megs and the Seekers while the rescuers pull the Dinos out of the muck. Expect human spectators by now and be careful not to frag any even if they fire on us. Did I miss anything?" Sideswipe shoved at him good-humoredly, making the yellow terror look at him and smile despite himself.

"Trailbreaker's force field will support Bumblebee and one Dinobot at a time. One. Do not rely on it for support at any time while a Dinobot is being pulled out," Prowl paused to look at all assembled. "Do you have anything to add, Optimus?"

"This will have to be done in primary mode by everyone except Seaspray and Skyfire. Look sharp, Autobots!" Prime's 'roll out' tone got even Sunstreaker's coolant flowing a little faster.

They assembled at Skyfire's bay doors. "I chose to make final approach from over the continent," Skyfire's voice boomed through the hold, "I have two airborne contacts to the southeast - they fly like Thundercracker and Skywarp - and another southwest over the Atlantic at high altitude - could be Starscream but I don't recognize him, his energy signature and flight pattern are off."

"Good enough, Skyfire, open bay doors," Prime ordered, "Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, choose your moment carefully, try to hit Thundercracker and Skywarp in the air." He made optic contact with the brothers. Sideswipe grinned and fiddled with the settings on his jet pack; Sunstreaker half saluted and fingered the releases on his paraglider. Prime turned to his senior staff: "Ironhide, Prowl, Jazz, we'll engage Megatron on the ground after Seaspray and Company are in position." The rush of air as the bay doors opened covered the various affirmations of agreement from that trio. Prime continued, putting a lot more power through his vocalization to be heard, "Seaspray, transform in the air. Get ready for Trailbreaker as soon possible."

Skyfire didn't have to change his volume to be heard over the wind, "I'm as close to directly over Thundercracker and Skywarp as I'm likely to get!"

"Go!" screamed Sunstreaker, grinning wickedly at Sideswipe. They jumped, Sunstreaker eagerly free-falling with his hand on the release of his paraglider, Sideswipe only a processor cycle behind him. With their optics set to infrared, the Seekers stood out to the brothers like beacons.

"Take us down to the water, Skyfire," Prime directed, watching in infrared himself as Sunstreaker literally fell from the sky onto Thundercracker.

"Those two are ahblivious!" Jazz hollered up at Prime from almost his very elbow. Prime briefly had no idea which two he meant: the Twins or the rank-and-file Seekers. Jazz was grinning up at him, though, and Prime grinned back under his battle mask. "How they call themselves Seekers when they don't notice it's about to start rainin' Lambos, I'll never know!"

Skywarp was a little harder for Sideswipe to catch, but after so many rounds of 'jet- judo' Sideswipe knew to fire up his jetpack and just hang out in the vicinity of Thundercracker. Skywarp would eventually 'warp' over to help his beleaguered comrade.

There was no time for Optimus and Jazz to watch that fight unfold: Skyfire had started his descent. "Seaspray, we'll be in position for your jump in 10...9..." Skyfire's voice seemed to be getting softer as they descended: he was slowing down and the noise was building. Jazz left Prime, moving to the side of the opening vacated by the Lamborghinis. "...8...7..." Seaspray awkwardly made his way to join Jazz and Prime at the bay doors - he had enough trouble walking on solid ground, deck plating in a rapidly descending airplane was not a challenge he appreciated. "...6...5..." Jazz firmly grasped one of Seaspray's arms, steadying him when it looked like he might stumble directly out of the bay. Prime took hold of the other, holding the smaller mech rock steady. "...4...3..." Seaspray watched the water getting closer and closer, and visibly relaxed a little -- they were about to be in his element! "...2...1...Go!" Prime and Jazz simultaneously gave Seaspray a shove and released his arms, Jazz still grinning and Prime worriedly watching the Minibot as he transformed in mid-air and seemed to dive into the black ocean water. "Prepare for second pass!" Skyfire's voice boomed again: the bay seemed silent at the speed he now held.

"We can't see where Seaspray went under any more," bellowed Prime, "do you have contact?"

"Rrready, Prrrime," the little Autobot's voice came through to them, amplified considerably by Skyfire's comm system.

And: "I have him on my radar, Optimus, riding high on the water," Skyfire added. "Get Trailbreaker in position. Ready in 8..." Trailbreaker started to mosey in the direction of the doors. "...7...6...5..." Prowl and Bumblebee followed him, Prowl looking ready to shove Trailbreaker at the doors, Bumblebee looking as nervous as only his expressive faceplates could show. "...4...3...2..." Trailbreaker didn't pause and didn't look at the two flanking the exit. Jazz and Prime reached out for his arms, intending to repeat the process they'd used with Seaspray. Trailbreaker would have none of that, however. He evaded their hands, "...1...Go!", and stepped calmly out of the hold.

-X-X-X-

"What are they doing?" Megatron grumbled, almost to himself as he and Starscream watched the second Autobot fall from Skyfire's hold. They'd been hovering over the swampy delta for groons, slowly harvesting energon from the oil pipeline and waiting for the Autobots. Dinobots did not fit the bill - their arrival earlier in the night had not satisfied Megatron. After a brief engagement wherein Slag got in one good blast at Megatron and Grimlock nearly caught Thundercracker out of midair, the Decepticons had retreated. Always preferring their thunder-lizard forms in battle, the Dinobots moved too slowly in pursuit of their targets and sunk in the muck. Never quick to recognize their own danger, the four were thoroughly mired before they knew there was a problem. Only Sludge and Swoop were unhindered by the terrain. Sludge was built for this - his name said it all - but his attempts to lift the others out by clamping down on them with his powerful jaws were not well-received...Megatron was tired of watching that play out the same way, over and over. The only thing that changed was the direction of the wind and Snarl's energy level - that particular mech was winding down by the breem. After getting weary of listening to Thundercracker and Skywarp baiting the beasts, Megatron had banished them back to sentry duty over the African continent. Swoop was only an annoyance to Megatron, with his piercing Pteranodon scream cutting the night sporadically as he alternated between brief pursuits of the airborne Seekers and long stretches working with Sludge to try to pull the other Dinobots up out of the water and silt. Slag, Sludge, Snarl and Grimlock let loose an occasional blast, mostly in frustration, and had succeeded only in reducing the vegetation in their immediate vicinity to ash. As if Megatron and Starscream would be stupid enough to get within reach! But things were getting interesting again.

"They're up to something," Starscream began, running every scanner he had over the western horizon.

One of the mired Dinobots roared in frustration.

"Your deductive powers never cease to amaze me, Starscream," Megatron chided. "Why don't you go after that traitor Skyfire? I'll finish up here."

-X-X-X-

Skyfire knew those in his hold couldn't see Trailbreaker's landing, so he narrated the scene for them. "Seaspray's moving...farther away from Trailbreaker!" Prime and Prowl exchanged shocked looks - they'd directed Seaspray to catch the falling Autobot! "Trailbreaker's ... Oh! He's put up a force field under himself! He's floating! Seaspray's approaching him now... Trailbreaker's doing something, making the field shallower... It looks like he's walking on the surface of the ocean! He's climbing aboard Seaspray! They're ready!" Skyfire's relief spoke for all of them.

A Dinobot's roar randomly split the night.

"They could have told me they had a better way to deploy," Prowl complained to no one in particular as Jazz and Prime grasped Bumblebee by the arms.

Jazz caught his optics over the smaller mech's head. "You're hard ta say no to when your woun' up," he teased.

Prowl kept his faceplates impassive but dimmed his optics a moment. Prime ignored them. Bumblebee was too busy staring down at the water to hear anything over his own cooling systems.

"We're about to have company!" Skyfire warned as he skimmed the water, heading now almost directly toward Seaspray and Trailbreaker. Seaspray was picking up what speed he could, in the same direction as the jet. "Hand him off in 5...4...3..." It looked like they might scoop the duo back up out of the water, they were so low. But Skyfire was going as slowly as he could and still be flying. Seaspray had almost matched his speed. "...2...1..." and even before Skyfire said "Go!" Jazz and Prime had swung the little yellow Autobot out of the bay and into Trailbreaker's waiting arms. "Perfect!" Skyfire whooped.

-X-X-X-

"Why should I engage Skyfire? We have three Seekers in the air, I'll..." Starscream's insubordination was cut short by the ignominious arrival of Skywarp. The black and purple Seeker crashed so close to Megatron and Starscream that the two were splattered liberally with the water and sludge disturbed by his landing. Sideswipe soared up and away from his handiwork. Starscream took to the sky. "I'll bring him down!" He screamed as he transformed.

-:-Thundercracker, Starrunner, Report!-:- Megatron barked.

-:-Sunstreaker's on me again!-:- Thundercracker groaned.

-:-Lord Megatron. Starrunner. I am circling between the human traffic and orbit.-:-

Megatron cursed Shockwave's insistence on protocol - that Decepticon did not do a thing without an order! -:-Get Sunstreaker off Thundercracker!-:- he growled, -:-and watch out for the red one with the jet pack!-:-

Starrunner: -:-Yes, Lord Megatron.-:-

Then Megatron found himself under fire from at least three ground-based positions. His Seekers had completely distracted him from his quarry! Human projectiles bounced harmlessly off his skin, but he felt a graze to his left shoulder that felt familiar, like Prime's laser rifle, and a peppering of something on his back that proved to be acid within astroseconds.

"Prowl! No acid pellets!" Prime bellowed across their battlefield as he opened fire on Megatron again.

-X-X-X-

Sunstreaker was having more fun than he remembered, holding onto Thundercracker as if his spark depended on it (it really did) and pounding the blue Seeker for all he was worth (which if you asked him was a lot). He grinned fiercely as Thundercracker did barrel rolls in an attempt to dislodge him. "Yeah! That's my favorite! Keep it up!" He crooned to his victim.

Suddenly he heard another jet approaching, but it didn't sound like Skywarp or Starscream. -:-Skyfire?-:- he sent over the Autobot radio channel.

Skyfire's voice: -:-You've got company, Sunstreaker, but I don't recognize him. MiG alt-mode. I mistook him for a local.-:-

The jet sounded very close behind them. Rather than turn to look, Sunstreaker hunkered down on Thundercracker's back, holding himself as flush to the Seeker as he could. The unidentified jet passed so close to him he was nearly dislodged by the wake itself; Thundercracker's violent shuddering added an extra challenge. "Leave me the frag alone!" Thundercracker cursed as he fought to retain control.

"Hang on Bro'!" Sideswipe shouted, roaring up with his jet pack. "I'll get him!"

Thundercracker went into an almost vertical climb. Sideswipe hovered briefly, casting about for another glimpse of the MiG-Seeker. He looked up after Thundercracker and saw the impossible in infrared: the MiG was coming down in an almost vertical dive toward Thundercracker. He was going to literally peel Sunstreaker off the F-15's fuselage. Without processing it, Sideswipe shot upward to intercept the MiG.

-X-X-X-

Thundercracker watched Starrunner heading straight for him and panicked. The crazy 'Con nearly grounded him in that last close call. -:-Abort! Abort!-:- Thundercracker screamed over the radio.

Starrunner: -:-I will dislodge the yellow Autobot.-:-

Thundercracker: -:-You'll dislodge my fuselage!-:- In his panic to avoid his fellow Seeker, he abruptly flattened his climb and collided with Sideswipe who latched onto his underside. The mass of two additional mechs was too much for the F-15 and he started to fall. The ocean was approaching a lot faster than he liked. Seemingly at some signal, the Autobots both let go at once and Sideswipe fired up his jet pack, gathered up his twin, and was gone. Thundercracker tried to right himself but was unsuccessful in bringing his stalled jet-mode engines back on-line. In desperation he started to transform.

-X-X-X-

Deciding he'd succeeded in completely distracting the Autobots from Soundwave's diamond piracy, Megatron smiled to himself through the discomfort of the damage to his back. He took flight. "Decepticons, retreat!" he broadcast with both radio and vocalizer. He looked around, wondering where his Seekers had gotten to. He saw Thundercracker falling toward the ocean, that idiot Starrunner flying to intercept his leader in retreat, and no sign of Starscream and Skywarp. Maybe the campaign did not go as smoothly as he thought.

-X-X-X-

-:-I have you.-:- Starrunner's voice came over the radio as relatively small, seemingly delicate hands grasped Thundercracker's stabilizers firmly and stopped his fall. Starrunner slowly flew higher, literally dragging Thundercracker with him.

Nose-down, in alt-mode, thoroughly humiliated, Thundercracker got a grip on himself. "Let me go," he demanded. This was worse than being beaten by that awful Sunstreaker!

"In a breem," Starrunner assured him, "We will be high enough that if you are still unable to fly I can catch you again."

Thundercracker's response was preempted by Megatron's bellow. It came to the airborne Seekers in stereo, over both audios and radios: "Decepticons, retreat!"

"Let me go! That's an order!" Thundercracker demanded. He knew he really didn't have rank to pull over the new Seeker, but he was hoping the mech's adherence to protocol would get him out of this humiliation.

"Yes, Sir," Starrunner immediately obeyed, loosing his grip on Thundercracker and transforming to meet Megatron to execute their retreat.

-X-X-X-

"This place looks like a smeltin' pit," Ironhide remarked to Prime as the sun came up. Smoky little oil fires still burned at the edges of the destruction wrought by the stranded Dinobots. Two factions of humans had added to the confusion in the pre-dawn light, each blaming the other for the mess despite the fact that large alien robots were still in the area. Jazz had hurriedly explained to Prime that the Ogoni were farmers until the oil companies polluted the area too much to support their crops of palm oil and sugar cane. He got them to withdraw from the fray and had gone off with them in a small motorboat to talk. Primus only know where he'd acquired a translation program for Izon to English, but it had shocked that faction into listening to him. English was the language of their oppressors so although several in their group understood it, they refused to speak it. Izon was at least a dialect of their region, if not the personal choice of their camp. Bumblebee had volunteered to deal with the other group of humans, accompanying them back to the refinery to substantiate their report and hopefully expedite the clean-up effort. That group looked like true military but claimed Shell as their employer.

"Human politics did more damage than even Megatron could," Prime lamented, shaking his head. Prime had laid out his trailer over some already-devastated trees and it was serving them well. It gave him, Ironhide and Prowl a place to dry out while the clean up continued. He wished they were a bit higher, he couldn't make out the Dinobots through the remaining trees. "Are all the Dinobots aboard Skyfire?"

"Not yet. They're still workin' on Grimlock. Trailbreaker's runnin' too low on power so his force field platform's gettin' smaller." Ironhide was still amazed that Trailbreaker's force field really had provided the means for Bumblebee, Sludge and Swoop to free the other Dinobots. "I gotta hand it ta ya, Prowl," Ironhide shook his head appreciatively, "That 'as a good plan." Prowl only nodded.

"Who is that?" Prime asked, sounding suspicious.

Ironhide and Prowl followed his gaze. "Odds are," said Prowl, "that is the new Seeker Sunstreaker and Sideswipe encountered." They watched as the unmarked black MiG slowly over flew the area. The jet ignored all the Autobots, apparently looking for something or someone else. In the distance, a Dinobot roared. The jet adjusted its (his?) flight pattern a bit. The three mechs on the mobile command unit watched as the jet came around for another slow pass, wondering if it was the Decepticon or some other local faction. Only when the mech transformed did they get a good enough look at his wings to see the Decepticon sigil outlined there - black on black, not the purple all the others used. "That is very strange," Prowl remarked. The Seeker hovered over the water in mech mode, then crouched down and reached a hand into the sludge, coming up with a very battered Starscream. After a moment during which they seemed to argue, Starscream flew slowly away.

"Shouldn't we go after 'im? Or do somethin' about that new Seeker?" Ironhide turned to ask his commander and XO. But they were still staring in that same direction. Ironhide turned back to see what held them speechless. The black Seeker was flying toward Grimlock's position, deftly dodging blasts from his dino-mode flamethrower. He disappeared behind the trees, then came up with a very unhappy Grimlock, still in his T-Rex form. The Seeker had him by the head; there was nothing the 'Bot could do - his little dino-arms couldn't reach the offending hands on either side of his head and he didn't have leverage to angle his head up to blast the Seeker. He roared. The Seeker placed him atop the remaining relatively sturdy patch of trees near the others, then took off fast, zigzagging and transforming back to his jet form, again avoiding every blast Grimlock sent his way. No other Autobot moved. "Well, I never," Ironhide snorted.

Prime watched as the strange Decepticon merged paths with Starscream after he was well out of Grimlock's range. "Let's pack up and get home," he said wearily.


	2. Under the Plating

_Under the Plating_

Sequel to _Skimming the Surface_

Universe: loosely G1 cartoon after the appearance of the Constructicons on Earth.

Rated: PG - what is that, now? K+.

Pairing: not the main storyline, but Jazz/Prowl in the background.

Author's Notes: Recognizable Characters/Names belong to Hasbro/Takara. I'm just playing with them. Starrunner is not me just a namesake, one of my offspring. 15,929 words.

-:-radio transmission-:-

* * *

-:-Cosmos to Ark, come in Ark.-:- 

Blaster's voice: -:-You're comin' in loud an' proud, Cosmos!-:-

-:-Mirage and Bluestreak have encountered a problem on patrol. They require assistance bringing in a prisoner.-:-

-:-No way. Are you prankin' me? Who are you and what have you done with Cosmos?!?-:-

Cosmos could hear Blaster's grin. -:-Sorry, Blaster. I'm not joking and I don't need Ratchet to scan my processor again. They have a Decepticon in custody and asked me to relay a message asking Jazz to come out to meet them.-:-

Blaster shook his head, not that Cosmos could see him. -:-It's the middle of the day-shift recharge cycle. Officer-of-the-Day is Ironhide. I'll page him so you can give him your report.-:-

-:-That's fine, Blaster, I'll fill him in while you track down Jazz. Mirage was very specific: they need Jazz. As soon as possible.-:-

Blaster brought up a window on his LAN console that rang Ironhide's quarters. Ironhide looked so resigned when he answered, Blaster felt obliged to make it quick. "Patrol has a Decepticon prisoner. They're asking for Jazz. Cosmos will tell you more while I look for him. Do I patch you through or do you wanna come down here?"

Ironhide looked significantly more interested. "Well, don't that beat all? I'll come on down there, Blaster, the walk'll give me a chance to get the energon flowin'." He moved to switch off his end of the line, then paused. "What do they want with Jazz?"

"Cosmos'll have ta answer that. Just told me Mirage specifically said he needs Jazz."

"Might as well track 'im down then. I'm on mah way." Ironhide closed the connection.

Blaster rang Jazz's quarters. No answer and no sign of movement when he brought up the camera view of Jazz's doorway. Jazz didn't have an office, but Blaster rang his console anyway, just to make sure he wasn't lurking somewhere nearby. No answer. "We oughtta rig boosters to use our internal radios in the Ark," Blaster said to himself. "Or get some new digs like in New York." No sign of Jazz in the common room, at least, not that the camera there was picking up. Beachcomber and Seaspray were visible down there, though, watching TV. He activated the link to that room and picked up a narrator saying _"...the red coral glows brightly under a black light..."_

"Blaster to 'Bots. Have ya seen Jazz in there lately?"

Someone off-screen scraped a chair across the floor momentarily. Neither visible Minibot jumped at his inquiry: Seaspray did his share of comm duty and nothing could possibly startle that Beachcomber. Seaspray answered, never taking his attention from the screen. "He wass in herrre earrliearrr, Blasterrr, but that wass beforrre Bluestrreak and Mirrrage left on patrrol. Ssorrry."

"No problemo, Seaspray. I'll keep lookin'." Blaster flipped through the hallway cameras, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Porsche.

Ironhide walked in to the communications center. "Evenin', Blaster. Er, mornin', I guess." The old warrior leaned heavily on the chair next to Blaster. "Hook me up to Cosmos." Then he looked at what Blaster was doing, flipping through the security feeds throughout the Ark. "Still haven't raised him?"

Blaster flipped a switch and indicated Ironhide should sit down. -:-Cosmos? I've got Ironhide here.-:-

Ironhide gave Blaster a stern look as Cosmos started in. Ironhide firmly pressed the mute button for the radio pick-up. "Check Prowl's office."

Blaster looked at Ironhide as if he'd said something impossible like "Check Megatron's cannon."

-:-Ironhide? You might follow Jazz out to meet them, but they've been very specific: their prisoner insists he will speak with Jazz.-:- Cosmos was saying.

"Have ya gone deaf, Blaster? Check Prowl's office. Quarters, whatever. Those links go to the same console, ya know. Stop lookin' at me like I'm speakin' in tongues and do it!" Then, toggling radio mute off: -:-Cosmos, why can't they escort their prisoner to the Ark? We do have holdin' cells.-:-

-:-Mirage reports their 'Con says he won't get far under his own power until his solar arrays have had a few hours in the morning. Mirage partially believes him: says the damage is bad enough Mirage thinks he may have to be dragged to the Ark. He insists he's looking for Jazz.-:-

Blaster rang Prowl's quarters. He was about to cut the connection and ask Ironhide who was spreading rumors when Prowl answered, his expression stern. "Ironhide is on call tonight, Blaster."

"Sorry, Prowl. Patrol is asking for Jazz. Ironhide thought you might know where he is?" Blaster saw a flicker of movement behind Prowl in the camera shot.

"Heya, Blaster. What's up with 'Raj and Blue?" Jazz asked, materializing behind Prowl to lean over his shoulder and tilt the tiny camera up so that Blaster could see him. Prowl looked distinctly displeased.

Ironhide was saying to Cosmos, -:-Mirage and Bluestreak didn't cause the damage, did they? They just found 'im this way. Has Mirage considered the possibility this is a trap?-:-

Before Blaster could get a grip on himself and answer Jazz, both he and Prowl registered Ironhide's question. "I'm on my way," Jazz said. Prowl cut the connection.

"Gonna be quite a party in here in a tick," Blaster mused.

Cosmos: -:-We have entertained that possibility, Ironhide, and I have scanned the area and the vicinity of the Ark thoroughly. No sign of other Decepticons in this hemisphere. If it is a trap, it will be sprung by only the one transformer.-:-

-:-So Mirage and Bluestreak are better off with some back-up anyway.-:- Ironhide drawled slowly, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling tightly at Blaster. -:-Now, why Jazz?-:-

Cosmos: -:-Their prisoner is adamant that he has information important to 'Number Four'. That can only be Jazz.-:-

Ironhide: -:-Sounds like they didn't find him, he found them. Lookin' like slag. No 'take me to your Prime' garbage?-:-

Jazz made his entrance, followed by an unreadable Prowl.

Cosmos: -:-No fight. He landed in the area sometime after the last patrol's pass and my first scan ahead of Mirage's patrol. I mistook him for a local; he was completely powered-down in jet-mode for at least 2 hours. He remained quiescent until Bluestreak came up on him but offered no resistance, only insists on communicating with 'Number Four'. Bluestreak is standing guard while we converse and Mirage scouts the area.-:-

Jazz gestured at the large number four emblazoned on his chest. -:-Cosmos, just patch him through and I'll keep 'im talkin' while Prowl assesses the situation.-:-

Cosmos: -:-I can't do that, Jazz. He says his radio's not functioning. None of us have the capacity to really confirm that, but if he's lying, he's being very consistent. Mirage and I have hailed him randomly on every frequency we've ever known Decepticons to use and he shows no sign of having heard us.-:- Pause. -:-Mirage says it looks like he crash-landed. No landing gear deployed.-:-

Three pairs of optics turned to Prowl, expecting his analysis of the news. He gestured at Ironhide.

Ironhide sighed: the one time he actively wanted Prowl to pull rank and take the situation completely in hand, he declined. -:-Send us the coordinates and tell Mirage we're en route. Ark out.-:- "Ah'm gettin' too old fer this."

-:-Data sent. Cosmos out.-:-

Ironhide looked directly at Prowl, waiting for him to make optic contact. "What do you think?"

"I need more information. Blaster, replay for me everything Cosmos relayed. Ironhide, get Swoop - we'll leave Ratchet out of this but it sounds like this one may need medical attention just to get to the brig. Jazz, choose the best route to the location Cosmos sent."

-X-X-X-

Mirage met them well beyond sensor distance from the scene. He appeared at the side of the road with his hand raised to signal a halt. "Jazz, this is easily the strangest behavior I have ever witnessed."

Jazz stopped and transformed to speak amicably with Mirage. "Sounds like it, 'Raj, just the little bit we got from Cosmos. Tell me more!"

Prowl and Ironhide pulled up beside them but neither transformed, opting to let Jazz work his magic with the stuffy mech.

As the smiling Jazz clapped him soundly on the back, Mirage found himself unable to do anything but return the grin. "Bluestreak had raced on ahead - he was full of energy this evening! - and I heard him transform and sputter a string of obscenities worthy of a Lamborghini. I also transformed and engaged my disruptor to approach with caution. I found Bluestreak standing a few lengths away from a jet plane, gun trained on the cockpit. The airplane was speaking to him very slowly in Cybertronian. He was saying, 'I will speak with Number Four.' I remained quiet. Bluestreak demanded the jet identify himself; he said he is called Starrunner. It means nothing to either of us. I am really quite proud of Bluestreak: he interrogated the mech as well as anyone could have and gave up no information in his usual verbose speech."

"Tha's good news. What more did he get outta this Starrunner?"

"Nothing really. He answers most questions with reference to 'Number Four'. I believe him when he says he cannot transform and that his radio is broken. When Bluestreak demanded he drop his weapons, he disengaged every article attached to his fuselage, some of which are not obviously weapons. I covered Bluestreak while he retrieved the articles: the jet had landed without using landing gear. One canister contains human artifacts; when questioned he again answered with reference to you." Mirage produced said canister from subspace and offered it to Jazz. "I am reluctant to look closely myself until Wheeljack or Perceptor has scanned it thoroughly."

Jazz took the proffered canister and briefly glanced at the contents: it was a collection of storage media. He could identify compact disks, a hard-drive, at least two USB drives and a tape. Shaking it, Jazz thought he saw a Cybertronian data chit among them, but even he wouldn't touch that without having it checked. "Hnnn. Could be anythin'. 'Number Four', huh?" He turned away from Mirage and spoke to Prowl. "I'm goin' in. I'm gonna walk right in, and act like I know 'im." Obviously still thinking, he turned back to Mirage. "Has he seen you?"

"Not as far as I know. I cannot vouch for which sensors he may be using. I have not vocalized in his presence and have detected no active scans but he may be lying about his lack of radio reception or have any type of passive detector." Mirage paused as if considering his next words carefully. He looked in Prowl's direction, "I get the distinct impression that this Decepticon knew our patrol route exactly, so it stands to reason he also knows we patrol in pairs. We are too predictable."

Prowl spoke up coolly. "Perhaps. We can address that later. Jazz, we'll proceed all together, but transform out of sight of your informant. Ironhide and I will circle through the woods as quietly as we can. You and Mirage 'walk right in' - with your disruptor engaged, Mirage - and make as much noise as you can. When Ironhide and I are in flanking positions, you show yourself. At least he will not know our true number. Swoop will continue to circle well out of sensor range.

"Where 're the actual weapons he dropped?" asked Ironhide while Mirage and Jazz returned to auto-mode.

Mirage led the party toward the scene. "Bluestreak claimed the one undamaged gun. Those that are damaged or unidentifiable are well away from both mechs. I set a small light among them; you will not overlook the pile in the dark."

"It's not overlookin' 'em I'm worried about," Ironhide replied.

They drove briefly in silence. As they rounded a bend, Mirage slowed and came to a stop, transforming. The others followed suit. Mirage made optic contact with Jazz and pointed to the next bend in the road. Listening carefully, they could hear Bluestreak, "...happened to your stuff? I mean it looks like someone really pounded on you in your alt-mode an' all. This strafing gun's intact but the rest look like..." Jazz grinned and started walking slowly down the road, keeping to the unkempt edge where he could snap twigs and rustle leaves as he went. Mirage disappeared. Prowl made optic contact with Ironhide. Ironhide gestured to the right, then pointed at Prowl and indicated he should go to the left.

Prowl dimmed his optics as an indication of agreement and headed out silently.

Bluestreak's chatter stopped. Jazz hoped it was because he'd heard the sloppy noise he and Mirage were making. He made the turn in the road feeling the gravel dig into his feet. Mirage was right to be proud of the lad: he had positioned himself where he could easily watch both their approach and the prisoner and had a weapon trained on each.

Jazz decided to go for full flamboyance. "Evenin' Blue! I hear ya have need o' the Jazz-man. Whatchya got for me?"

Bluestreak immediately launched into the story of the night, almost turning fully back to watch the Decepticon. Then he heard more noise from Mirage, so he remained wary of both possible threats. Jazz kept his face turned in Blue's direction but behind the visor his optics studied the jet in infrared, rifle lowered but still ready. While Bluestreak prattled on, Jazz noted the cracked canopy, the dented fuselage, battered wings, and the obvious damage to the jet's undercarriage.

The Decepticon gave no outward indication that he was alive, let alone listening to anything in his surroundings. Infrared showed that he was using very little energy, probably only the most vital systems: processors, power distribution, maybe cooling. Jazz knew intimately how thoroughly looks could be deceiving. Waiting for Mirage to present himself as the signal the others were in place, Jazz interrupted Blue, smiling all the while. "Say again, Blue? Surely you caused at least a little o' the damage I'm observin' here!"

"No! Really he was like this when I found him just sittin' in the dirt there lookin' like a human-made airplane. On infrared though it's hard to hide the fact that you're alive an--" Jazz saw Mirage on the road and cut Bluestreak off there.

"Why don'tcha keep watchin' the East, Blue?" Turning to the Decepticon, Jazz continued to hold his rifle up casually, "let 'Raj watch the West." This arrangement meant all three were at least looking in the direction of their prisoner.

Jazz turned his full attention to the damaged mech. Ignoring Bluestreak's resumed chatter, he stepped purposely closer to the Decepticon saying, "What news d'ya have for me, m'man?"

No response. Jazz continued to step closer to him. "I am the one yer lookin' for, right, Starrunner?" Still nothing.

He tried the common radio channels and got no response.

"Hey, man!" Jazz said loudly. No response. "Are ya still with us?" And again, as harshly as he was capable: "Starrunner!"

The airplane twitched once, violently. Jazz jumped back a bit and aimed his rifle full-on. Mirage and Bluestreak exchanged a look past Jazz and their captive.

"Sir? Repeat the question, Sir," said a muffled voice in Cybertronian that could only have come from the Decepticon.

Jazz stuck with the local language the Autobots generally adopted but went for precise grammar and enunciation worthy of Prowl. "Am I the one you seek?"

The Decepticon answered by transforming. Either the sound of tearing metal or the sudden movement spooked Bluestreak into firing on him once. It was a good shot, if the mech had still been in jet-mode it would have caught him squarely in the canopy. As it was, the blast caught him in the knee after he was mostly bipedal. He fell forward and caught himself on one arm, the other side of his torso not having transformed fully. He raised his head to look up at Jazz. "Yes Sir." He turned to look in Bluestreak's direction and said, "I offer no threat to you."

Jazz went with his basic reaction to help the mech to his feet, awkwardly grasping his 'good' elbow and heaving upward. "Can you stand?" he asked. 

"Yes Sir," back to formal Cybertronian as he slowly balanced himself, wearing a stiff expression as he removed his arm from Jazz's grasp.

Jazz found himself completely at a loss: straight up interrogation was not one of his skills. He was used to getting information out of unwitting sources, plied with subterfuge or high-grade and flattery. He waited a tick as the Decepticon swayed a little on his feet, then made an executive decision. -:-Swoop, are ya listenin'?-:-

-:-Aye!-:- Swoop's answer sounded more like a bird call than a word, -:-Me Swoop hear.-:-

-:-Well swoop on down and see if you can't patch this 'Con enough to get him to the Ark. I ain't standin' out here all night!-:- He grinned broadly at the Seeker. "I think it's gonna rain."

Jazz paused, giving the Decepticon an opportunity to speak.

"Do you speak the local language?" Jazz asked, really just stalling for Swoop. "My Cybertronian ain't what it used to be." He wasn't sure which annoyed him more: the now-unaccustomed language or the strict formality.

"Yes Sir, I do speak English," the mech replied.

"So. I think you startled poor Blue over there when you transformed. We thought you said you couldn't."

Swoop landed near Bluestreak, transforming smoothly as he touched down. Jazz noticed that the Decepticon actually looked relieved to see the Dinobot.

-X-X-X-

Number Four had a dazzling smile. He remarked on the weather, as if they were having a completely ordinary conversation; Starrunner was tempted to respond. He recognized a tactic the other Seekers had used to get an excuse to punish him: no question asked, he would not address a Cybertronian of rank. "Do you speak the local language? My Cybertronian ain't what it used to be."

"Yes Sir, I do speak English," Starrunner was unsure how to interpret the insistence on using the human language. It made it more difficult to convey clearly that he knew his place in the ranks, more likely that he would commit some mistake of insubordination.

Number Four's smile never wavered. "So. I think you startled poor Blue over there when you transformed. We thought you said you couldn't." The winged Dinobot landed behind Number Four. He made all the other Cybertronians present look small.

Starrunner was so relieved to see one he knew was capable of deactivating him quickly that he addressed Number Four without hearing a question. "No Sir. I said it would be painful to transform."

The Dinobot walked past Number Four and addressed Starrunner. "Ra-ak! Not transform all the way, me Swoop see. Stand still while me Swoop check out hurt." Starrunner braced himself.

-X-X-X-

Swoop was excited to have a chance to do something other than fight and practice fighting and hang on Ratchet's every word. He was significantly larger than the Seeker and set one large hand on the Decepticon's good shoulder while shining a light all over the obvious damage. He made 'tut-tut' sounds as he looked closely at the seams where his patient had transformed. "You no transform back to jet-mode today. Me Swoop stop fluid loss but not fix torn skin here."

"We just wanna get him back to the Ark, Swoop," Jazz said, worriedly scanning the sky. He really hated being caught out in thunderstorms, and this night was weird enough without lightning and rain.

Swoop fired up a small torch and started sealing the obvious torn lines on the Seeker. He was enjoying the training as field medic but so far none of the other Autobots really accepted his help - this was his first opportunity to apply some of his recently acquired skills. The injuries from transforming out of a damaged alt-mode were mostly cosmetic but the metal was twisted and torn such that the fuselage would not go back together smoothly without work. The minor leaks this had caused were quickly sealed off. Swoop tut-tutted happily at his patient, "This part easy fix, Ratchet let me Swoop do this work later!" Then he turned his attention to the other side of the 'Con's chest.

"So, why didja transform just now?" Jazz continued.

"Sir. To converse properly with you as a Cybertronian." His face contorted with pain, the mech held very still under Swoop's ministrations.

Thunder rolled. Prowl spoke over the radio from his concealment in the woods. -:-Mirage, Bluestreak, continue on your patrol.-:-

Mirage looked relieved and smiled, "Come along Bluestreak! We have ground to cover." He transformed and revved his engine a little.

Bluestreak looked a little disappointed but he moved to follow Mirage. He handed the strafing gun to Jazz as he passed, saying, "We finally have some excitement on patrol an' I can't even take the 'Con to the brig."

Jazz laughed, accepting the weapon. "Tha's okay, Blue, we'll let you tell it at turnover. There's nobody for Blaster to talk to right now 'cept Cosmos who already knows."

Prowl remained hidden. -:-Blaster won't be telling any of this until we have an understanding. Go on with Mirage, Bluestreak.-:-

Bluestreak smiled, "See ya back at the Ark!" As the first drops started to fall, he transformed and drove away with Mirage.

"Aahk!" Swoop's dismayed call made the remaining transformers wince. "No good! Me Swoop not fix broken hot-wires in rain - fry patient, maybe fry me Swoop, too." The rain started in earnest and a flash of lightning cut the sky. As the water ran into torn places on Starrunner, a few sparks flew, highlighting the damage to not only the transceivers and his fuselage on the only partially-transformed side but the leg-joint Bluestreak had shot.

While Swoop spoke and rain started to fall, Ironhide stepped into view. He thought he recognized the stranger. "Hey! Ain't ya the Seeker that pulled Grimlock outta the muck the other day? Yeah, that was you. Yer a strong flyer - what are ya doin' landin' in the dirt like this?" he drawled, replacing his cannon with his actual hand.

Prowl appeared where the Autobots could see him but Starrunner could not, scowling. Jazz's smile never wavered, but he was calculating. Starrunner looked abashed but responded to Ironhide, saying, "Sir. My landing gear was already damaged, Sir." Then he grimaced hard as Swoop caused something in his knee to crackle and spark. "Swoop, I powered down as many systems as I can but that section is unresponsive."

Jazz moved away to retrieve the discarded damaged 'weaponry' Mirage had lit up. "We'll hafta continue our conversation in the Ark, Starrunner, I'm not standin' aroun' in the rain 'til mornin'."

"Yes Sir. I can walk." Starrunner grimaced as something in his torso hissed.

"No," Prowl began, holding up a hand to preclude interruption by Ironhide and Jazz who both looked likely to protest, obviously thinking he meant them to stay where they were. Starrunner startled a little but did not even try to turn around to look for the new Autobot. Swoop squawked. Prowl addressed the Seeker, "You will not walk, Starrunner, because we are not going to expose ourselves for several hours just to transfer you to a holding cell under your own power. Watching Swoop work, I am not convinced you can walk that far. Can you fly?"

-X-X-X-

Starrunner grimaced, scolding himself for again addressing a senior officer who did not ask a question. He wanted this to go smoothly and not invite punishment for speaking out of turn. A fluid line in his torso where Skywarp and Thundercracker had nearly crushed him split and Starrunner felt fluid run slowly down the inside of his plating, then start dripping down inside his leg. He'd turned the diagnostic off hours before and so didn't know if it was hydraulic fluid, energon or coolant. The new injury hissed; it was a pressurized system. Transforming must have put too much stress on the damaged line. Maybe he could not walk, after all.

A new Cybertronian spoke from behind him: "No, you will not walk, Starrunner, because we are not going to expose ourselves for several hours just to transfer you to a holding cell under your own power... Can you fly?" Starrunner never imagined Number Four would come to meet him at all; it stood to reason that if he did investigate, he would not come alone. This voice spoke with emotionless authority that startled Starrunner a bit.

"No Sir," Starrunner answered, looking desperately at Number Four. From the Dinobot's exclamation and the look on Red One's face, Starrunner guessed that Number Four was no longer the ranking Cybertronian on the scene.

-X-X-X-

"No Sir," the Seeker answered without turning away from Jazz, optics bright. Ironhide and Jazz found the expression on his faceplates out of place on a Decepticon.

Prowl turned his attention to Swoop. "Swoop, can you fly him back to the Ark? I know you can get above the storm with the added weight; are you comfortable escorting him to the Repair Bay alone?"

Swoop looked appraisingly at Starrunner. "Yes, me Swoop carry Snarl back from Africa, carry Starrunner to Ark easy! He try anything funny," as he spoke, Swoop stood up from where he'd been kneeling to attend to Starrunner's knee. He looked the 'Con straight in the optic as he finished, "like scorpion crossing river on turtle - me Swoop drop him Starrunner like bad habit." Even with the rain pouring off his crest comically, Swoop looked intimidating at that moment.

-X-X-X-

-:-Cosmos to Ark, come in Ark.-:-

Blaster turned his music down a notch to respond, -:-I'm still waitin' here for news from far an' near!-:-

-:-Blaster, Swoop's inbound with the Decepticon. Prowl wants Ratchet ready in the repair bay and Sunstreaker and Sideswipe to meet Swoop at the entry. So far, this 'Con's been nothing but cooperative, but that could change at any moment.-:- Pause. -:-Be back with you in a tick.-:-

"Primus! This guy's gonna have the whole Ark awake early today!" Blaster waited, music completely off now, hoping he wouldn't have to roust Ratchet and the Dynamic Duo out of recharge. The Twins had only been back from patrol for a few hours, themselves.

-:-Delete that: Swoop's there. I told him to circle a few times to give you a few minutes to get everyone in place. Cosmos out.-:-

-:-Whoa, Cosmos! You mean y- -:-

Cosmos uncharacteristically cut Blaster off: -:-Fraggit, Blaster! I relay information. The information is that Prowl wants Ratchet in the repair bay and the Lamborghinis at the door, now. Actually, 30 seconds ago. Cosmos out.-:-

Blaster was shocked. Nearly speechless, he replied flatly, -:-Ark out.-:-

-X-X-X-

-:-Land now?-:- Swoop asked Cosmos over their radio connection.

-:-Yes, Swoop, you can land now. Just do it slowly in case Blaster hasn't carried out his instructions yet.-:-

"We go to Ark now," Swoop said to Starrunner. Swoop had a firm grip on his undamaged arm with both taloned Pteronadon feet. The 'Con's red optics glowed faintly up at him in the night. Swoop began his descent, continuing the slow circle above the storm clouds. When they reached the level of the weather, he changed their track to go directly in, as quickly as he could. Luckily, the storm had relented to a light rain.

"Flyer: identify yourself!" a large voice boomed out of the dark and rain.

-:-Me Swoop with Patient.-:- Swoop answered over the radio knowing he was now in range of the Ark and Omega Supreme on sentry duty.

"Swoop with Patient: proceed," Omega answered, remaining out of sight against the mountain.

Within sight of the light at the entrance to the Ark, Swoop slowed his flight. Nearly hovering, he released his cargo from only a few inches above the ground. Starrunner landed on his feet but his damaged knee gave and he fell forward, catching himself on his free arm. Swoop transformed and landed a few feet away. "Sorry," he said, closing the distance and helping Starrunner stand.

Starrunner just looked at him.

"Twins not hurt you Starrunner, just," Swoop paused as he started them tramping through the mud of the old riverbed toward the Ark, looking for the perfect word, "in-sur-ance."

The pair standing squarely in the doorway parted as Swoop approached, clearly in control of the situation. When Blaster rang their quarters, they'd been in the middle of a video game: Sideswipe had been losing and so welcomed the strange direction to report to the entrance post-haste. He smiled at Swoop. Sunstreaker was his usual self; "Keep your distance with that filth," he snarled, making it clear he meant more than the muddy mess covering Swoop's charge.

"We go to repair bay now," Swoop said.

"Lead the way," said Sunstreaker, gesturing for Swoop and Starrunner to proceed. He and Sideswipe fell in a few paces behind them, avoiding the mud the pair were tracking in. The four walked in silence to the repair bay doors.

Once there, Sideswipe actually passed them to get the door for them, just so he could taunt Ratchet. "Hey Ratch'! D'you need Sunstreaker and me to stand guard, in case this 'Con's too much for you and Swoop?"

Obligingly, Ratchet cursed Sideswipe, his brother and their maker to the depths of the Pit. "Out! Let us work!" Swoop ushered Starrunner into the room.

Smirking, Sideswipe stepped back out, throwing back over his shoulder, "You're right. With Swoop workin' on him, he may not be long for this world! G'night, Ratch'!" He closed the door behind him.

"So, I suppose you're the best Decepticon science has to offer?" Ratchet grumbled, turning from where he'd been laying out diagnostic tools.

"No Sir," Starrunner answered.

Not listening for a response, Ratchet got his first good look at what Swoop had brought him. "No." He shook his head emphatically. "No Primus-forsaken way am I working on you until you're clean! Swoop, what were you thinking, bringing him here like this?" Swoop almost had time to begin to answer. "No, I don't care what Prowl said. What's the first rule in treating unknown injuries when you're not on a battlefield?" This time he did expect an answer and he crossed his arms over his chest to wait for it.

"Awwk. Always clean: clean self, clean tools, clean patient," Swoop recited proudly. He had a good memory, and was fairly consistent in using it.

"Get to it!" Ratchet dismissed them.

To Starrunner, Swoop said quietly, "We go to wash rack now. Not far." Never letting go of Starrunner's good arm, Swoop steered them back toward the door.

Outside, the Lamborghinis were waiting. They looked surprised.

"Quiet," said Swoop in his best authoritative tone. Medicine wasn't the only thing he was trying to learn from Ratchet.

The Twins exchanged a look. Sunstreaker shrugged a shoulder slightly and the two again fell in behind Swoop and Starrunner. The four walked to the wash room in silence. Swoop led Starrunner inside, the Twins wisely flanked the door.

Swoop guided Starrunner into the first bay. "You Starrunner hold rail. Mud not dry, come off easy." Swoop decided that the best way to go about this was with the low-pressure hose: warm clean water took most of the mud off without even having to turn the soap on. Under the bright light of the wash room, Swoop got a much better look at Starrunner's injuries. The reason transforming had torn so much of his skin was that he was badly dented beforehand. Some of the damage was obviously from landing without his gear down; the landing gear housing was crushed thoroughly. Swoop could see that even with most of Starrunner in his bipedal form. The side of his torso that had not returned to primary-mode was damaged significantly worse than the other, even given the tears caused by transforming. Swoop couldn't tell where the transformation seams even were on that side, it was so bent.

As the warm water washed over him, Starrunner off-lined his optics.

Swoop noticed the darkened optics and turned the water off. Shaking Starrunner gently by the shoulder, "You Starrunner still with me Swoop?"

Optics back on-line, Starrunner replied, "Yes, Swoop." Unaccustomed to such attentive treatment, Starrunner decided to make a request. "Let me do this?"

Swoop thought for a moment, optics narrowed. Decision made, he stood up to his full height and held the water-wand out to Starrunner. "You Starrunner clean self. Be quick, Ratchet not patient." He didn't step away but he did remove his hand from Starrunner's shoulder.

-X-X-X-

Starrunner really hadn't expected Swoop to comply at all. Gratefully he took the hose from Swoop and held the nozzle up over his head, letting the water run down his helm, faceplates and neck first. He could feel the water running down inside his plating through all the tears in his skin, but the dirt had gotten in there first and unbeknownst to Swoop some of it was dried hard. Awkwardly, he moved the nozzle nearly into each of his wounds, wincing as the water shorted minor mechanisms and electricity crackled. Swoop moved as if to steady him, but Starrunner noticed. "No," he said wearily, "I can do this, Swoop."

It was just a few minutes later, but to Starrunner it seemed like hours that he carefully cleaned himself. The strain of keeping his balance became evident when his hand started to shake, making it harder to control the flow of water. Stubbornly, he poked the nozzle into the side of his injured knee and watched in morbid fascination as the water flowed out around his foot, first thick and muddy brown then oily dark water as the various fluids that had pooled there after Bluestreak shot him were washed away.

Swoop squawked, watching that. Starrunner swayed alarmingly and Swoop set one hand on his good shoulder (the one that looked like a shoulder and not like an airplane's fuselage) and took hold of the water-wand with the other. "Enough," he said emphatically as the water ran nearly clear. "Me Swoop say enough. Any more dirt inside plating, we clean when we find. Me Swoop need be clean before him Ratchet see again, too." He set the nozzle in a fitting in the wall and ushered Starrunner to the bay door frame. "You Starrunner stand right here and hold onto rail again. Me Swoop not take long."

Starrunner was too exhausted to answer. His internal systems check showed his energon levels at less than two percent nominal; now that he had transformed and seen the extent of his injuries he knew he was not going to be able to deploy solar arrays. He could not see that region of his back but if he acknowledged the sensors there they registered as much pain as his front. He had to conserve energy. He powered down everything except his audio receptors and his gyros.

Swoop saw the dimmed optics again and cursed softly. He quickly rinsed the last of the mud from his feet and turned the water off. "We dry, then go," he said by way of warning, before lifting Starrunner bodily and carrying him quickly to the dryers.

Starrunner chose not to power any other systems back up: he had to have enough energy to speak with Number Four when he arrived. Why were the Autobots being so attentive? Swoop set him gently on the floor under a dryer and turned on the flow of hot air saying something else to Starrunner that did not require a response. He'd had just enough energy left to wait the night out in that clearing if he had to; planning to fly here under his own power after a few hours' sun in his alt mode. But for some reason he couldn't imagine the Autobots had immediately sent the very Cybertronian he was asking after out to meet him. With a field medic, of all things. Starrunner had assumed the Dinobot would dump him in the repair bay to have his memory scanned and be deactivated by this Ratchet, certain that the simple consideration was mostly a ploy to get him to cooperate. Not that it was necessary: even before his last encounter with the other Seekers, he had resolved to do this. The continued kindness was unnerving. Who treated a prisoner like this? Why? It reminded him that he really didn't want to be deactivated, allowed him hope he might find a place in this garrison.

The dryer he was under cycled off. A tick later, the dryer Swoop was using also stopped, leaving the room silent again. Swoop said something that sounded like a question.

"Repeat the question, Swoop," Starrunner said.

"Not important." Swoop picked him up again and headed for the hallway.

"I can walk, Swoop." That may not be true for long with energon levels at one-point-seven percent, but this attention was humiliating. Starrunner wasn't sure why he cared, he had no reason to care what anyone thought. He would tell Number Four what he could and be done with it. Be done with everything.

"Not as fast as me Swoop can carry you Starrunner," Swoop replied, nodding curtly at the Lamborghini brothers as he strode out of the wash room.

"Now that's just too much," Sunstreaker began commentary on the scenario.

"You Sunstreaker explain to him Ratchet why it take so long to get back, if him Starrunner try to walk there," Swoop overrode him confidently. "You Sunstreaker not see what me Swoop see, what him Ratchet see very soon. You Sunstreaker not medic!"

Sideswipe again leapt ahead to open the repair bay door. Before he could harass Ratchet, Swoop stomped in with Starrunner. "Thank you, Sideswipe, leave now." Sideswipe looked surprised. He half-saluted Swoop and left the bay.

-X-X-X-

Watching the door open, Ratchet readied a verbal assault for Sideswipe. Swoop shouldered the red rogue out of the way without slowing down. Polite to a fault, his student said, "Thank you, Sideswipe, leave now." Ratchet chuckled.

Swoop carefully placed Starrunner on the repair table where Ratchet had prepared the diagnostic equipment. "What funny?"

Ratchet clapped the Dinobot on the back. "Sideswipe. You crushed him." He looked down at the Decepticon. "Is he functional?"

"Me Swoop not crush Sideswipe! Sideswipe function normally!" Swoop's vocalization strayed toward the Pteranodon-call range.

With another laugh, Ratchet ran the preliminary scans that were just part of his personal senses over the black Seeker. "I meant _him_. And you did crush Sideswipe, figuratively."

"Oh!" Swoop sounded relieved. "Yes, him Starrunner functions, listening only, very low on energon. Wind down like Snarl."

"Listening, hmmm? Is this a trick?" Ratchet chose the damage to Starrunner's knee as the top priority - the other large injuries looked older. He torqued something he expected would get the mech's attention, like he normally treated the twins: keep them alert and riled, keep them hating him so they learned to take better care of themselves off the battlefield.

Starrunner only twitched a micron and suppressed a moan.

"Swoop, hand me those pliers. So, Starrunner is it?" Ratchet accepted the tool from Swoop, "Thank you, Swoop. They roused me out of recharge," he snipped at twisted plating, briefly waited for a reaction that didn't come, "told me to get the repair bay ready to receive a prisoner." Snip, pause, "You look more like collateral damage." Snip, pause, find release mechanism for shin dermal plating, "Did I mistake my intel? I could have sworn he said to expect a Decepticon." Remove shin plate, assess damage. "Didn't know we had any neutral camps left on Cybertron. How'd you come to be here?"

Starrunner realized Ratchet meant to be addressing him. "Sir? Repeat the question, Sir."

"Formal Cybertronian is it?" Connect meter to cable, pause for reading, "no need for that here. How'd a neutral like you come to be here?" Remove meter and reconnect farther up, pause, verify lack of continuity all along wire, not just in the vicinity of the broken coolant line.

"No Sir, not neutral." Starrunner only winced as Ratchet snipped the unreliable cable along with the sections of broken coolant line and split hydraulic line to his left foot. "Swoop brought me, Sir."

"Not neutral. Hmmmm," Ratchet kept working on the lower leg, hadn't gotten to the joint damaged by Bluestreak's disperser rifle. "Smart-aft. What happened to your badging? Swoop, see how this bit of cable is spotted all along the length of it? That's either from a lightning strike or a weapon like Bluestreak's. If you see this, you have to check the rest of the 'Bot's wiring very carefully, even shut him down and check as much of his cabling as you can get access to. Lightning strikes can be deadly, even if the victim seems fine: little breaks in the wires will separate inside the insulation at the worst time or the weak spots you can see in the insulation will cause shorts. Bad enough to short to plating, worse to short to other wires, causing mixed signals, false signals or small internal fires. It's actually better sometimes," pause to open up the knee the rest of the way and allow Starrunner a moment to flinch, "when the strike damages something catastrophically. Gets the damaged 'Bot into the med bay as soon as possible. Sure it's," pause to inspect the joint mechanisms more closely.

"Starscream wanted it, Sir," Starrunner finally heard an opening in which to answer Ratchet's question.

Ratchet had forgotten he'd asked a question. "Hmm? Right. Stop that 'Sir'-slag, name's Ratchet." Running his fingertips over the structure of the joint, he felt nothing amiss, "It's messy when the strike passes through the cooling system or the hydraulic system, it usually ruptures major lines and bursts a pump or two, but," pause to gesture to Swoop, "Clamp here, Swoop." Pause to allow Swoop to place the clamp. "Good." Resume damage assessment up into the thigh as well as train of thought, "It's less likely to actually kill a mech before he realizes he's damaged and can get to medical. His friends notice the vital fluid all over the place and bring him in. Happened to Skyfire once while Prime and Ironhide were aboard."

Ratchet continued to evaluate Starrunner's condition, removing plating that was obviously damaged and the plating adjacent to it; checking electrical cables with a circuit tester; assessing coolant lines, hydraulic lines and motivity cables with hyper-sensitive finger pads; evaluating the patient's processor functions by watching his reaction to the most painful work; and instructing Swoop along the way. The Decepticon was young, possibly newer than the Dinobots. The inside surfaces of his plating hadn't built up their protective layer of oxidation yet. The injuries were far from fatal, but deep - the shiny new metal had taken a pounding. There were transformation cogs in the damaged side that would have to be fabricated from scratch, and Ratchet had no intention of spending that kind of resources on a neutral or a Decepticon. He considered leaving the Seeker one-armed but his sense of duty and Swoop's protest led him to go for symmetry and decide to transform the mech manually to his primary mode.

-X-X-X-

Starrunner tried to follow what the medic said, tried to retain some semblance of suspicion and alertness. The sense that he was being slowly disassembled by skillful hands did not alarm him like he thought it should: it was less painful than what had come before. He floated in a daydream about flying through a cloudbank that shucked his plating away with only little pinpricks of pain/pleasure until there was nothing left but his spark free in the gray twilight.

Until Ratchet got to his untransformed arm, then pain like the one time Shockwave shot him, 'To teach what pain is,' made him shake. He suppressed an exclamation and reflexively on-lined his optics to look at Swoop in shock, certain they were going to deactivate him before he had a chance to deliver his messages. "Give Number Four the contents of my data banks," he vocalized desperately.

Swoop squawked. "Transfer data later - go off-line now!"

-X-X-X-

Ratchet just started the process of opening the partially transformed plating and Starrunner tried weakly to sit up. Swoop held him down easily, hoping he wasn't making any of the damage worse.

"Give Number Four the contents of my data banks!"

"Tra-awk! Transfer data later - go off-line now," Swoop hated to see any creature in pain, never played cat-and-mouse with anything. If there was killing to be done, he'd do it quickly. There was no need for this mech to be alert to what he and Ratchet had to do next. With most of his chest open, Swoop identified his main data cable and disconnected it deftly. Starrunner's optics went completely dark when that connection between his processor and spark was opened.

"I don't often allow that," Ratchet grated to Swoop, "normally I think it's better for a mech to have to deal with the consequences of what he does to himself, and the reactions of an alert patient are the best way to gauge progress." He paused in his work a moment, something about this Decepticon obviously starting to bother him. "You did right."

Swoop preened a bit at the praise.

-X-X-X-

Driving through the rain in the darkest part of the night was not Prowl's idea of a good time. In fact, no part of this evolution had been Prowl's idea of a good time. The relatively quiet evening in his quarters had been a good time, interrupted.

"Gives meanin' to the term 'rain-check'," Jazz said to him out of the blue. Even in his auto-mode, Prowl could hear Jazz smiling.

He'd deny it if asked, but Jazz's knack for deducing his thoughts had grown on him. Ironhide was far enough behind him not to hear, so Prowl replied, "No need for a sale when the customer is loyal."

"You're gettin' better at this!" Jazz flashed his brake lights once before dodging a downed tree-limb, trying to give Prowl enough warning to follow his lead instead of just the middle of the road saying, "Watch that!"

Prowl slowed down. "Let's wait a moment for Ironhide to make sure he sees that. It is too big for him to clear, too." They waited briefly, then Prowl transformed and moved the limb to the side of the road. Ironhide approached at his own pace.

"Why thank ya, Prowl," Ironhide said slowly, arriving in easy audio-range just as Prowl dropped the obstacle in the ditch, "but I hope ya don't think I'm that decrepit yet!"

Jazz beat Prowl to whatever he was going to say, "You said you're gettin' too old for this, Ironhide! Prowl's just bein' considerate." All the rain in Oregon couldn't stop Jazz from being cheerful and teasing his friends.

Transforming, Prowl added, "We are not the only ones who drive this road but we are likely to be among very few who are equipped to move a blockage that large."

They drove in silence for a while after that, Ironhide bringing up the rear and Jazz leading the way.

On the final approach to the Ark, up the normally dry riverbed, Jazz broke the silence. "Whaddaya think, Prowl?"

"I think the storm is getting stronger again," Prowl replied, avoiding the conversation he knew Jazz intended to start. This was about as serious as Jazz ever sounded. They were nearly home; he'd hoped to put off this topic until then. "We cannot get back to the Ark fast enough." Lightning struck a tree behind them startling all three 'Bots into a burst of speed.

"If Swoop made it back in one piece through this, I'll be impressed," Ironhide drawled mostly to himself, skirting a deep puddle Jazz and Prowl had just plunged through, spraying muddy water all over themselves.

"Why was he askin' for me, though? When would he have seen me, let alone got the idea in his head that he wants ta talk ta me, of all 'Bots?" Splashing through another pothole, "Ummpf! Avoid that one, Prowl." Resuming his train of thought, "You or Prime, sure, all the 'Con's prob'ly know who ya are and what ya do. Skyfire, maybe, havin' briefly worn the purple haze, but me? I never saw the guy before tonight!"

Narrowly skirting the indicated puddle - his undercarriage was lower than Jazz's - Prowl processed Jazz's questions. "Ironhide is right, he was the unknown Seeker we encountered in Africa. Did he observe your behavior with the Ogoni?"

"If he did, it was from a distance - I'm tellin' you, Prowl, I never saw him before." They rounded the last bend in the riverbed leading to the Ark.

"Drivers: identify yourselves," Omega Supreme boomed. The huge 'Bot could get so much volume through his vocalizer that it was impossible to tell where he was, he sounded like he was right in their audios.

Jazz answered for all of them, pumping his vocalizer output through his speaker system, "Heya, Omega! This is Jazz, returnin' with Prowl an' 'Hide."

"Jazz, Prowl, Ironhide: proceed," Omega Supreme answered.

"Thanks, man!" Jazz replied, "Stay dry!"

Omega rumbled back at him wordlessly, appreciating the thought even though he couldn't get in out of the weather if he had to.

Transforming just inside the entrance, Jazz turned to Prowl, his grin returning, "Wanna play good cop/bad cop?"

"Only you'll be playing," Prowl groused as he transformed. "We should hit the washracks before going to medical to begin our interrogation," he mused, watching Ironhide roll in behind them with water pouring off of him. "Ironhide, you are not as muddy as we are. Would you go to the repair bay and see if Ratchet has left that Decepticon in one piece?"

If Ironhide had gotten any mud on him, the rain had washed it away. He was just wet; water ran off his boxy form as he transformed. "I don't think Ratchet'll throw me outta medical," he'd planned ahead: he retrieved a transformer-sized towel from what had been his passenger compartment. "I'll see ya there in a few?" he asked as he dried himself off.

"Yes. Try to find out what he wants," Prowl started walking away.

Jazz lingered a moment. "If he tells ya why he's lookin' for me, let me know?"

Ironhide smiled, "O' course, Jazz, but I bet he won't talk much ta anybot but you. I just have that feelin'." When Jazz remained, Ironhide added, "Go on now, 'fore the place gets crowded."

Giving Ironhide a questioning look - this was easily the weirdest day Jazz had lived in a while - he walked quickly to catch Prowl.

-X-X-X-

Ironhide moseyed on to medical, in no hurry to insert himself in what he expected to be the most beneficial thing they could do with this Decepticon: let Ratchet deal with him. If the mech were one of the more violent types, Ratchet would quickly put him off-line whether he cooperated or not. If the mech were the confused youngster he appeared to be, Ratchet would treat him kindly and get more information out of him than anyone, regardless of what his connection to Jazz might be. If he were somewhere in between, Ironhide would trust Ratchet's judgment.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were lurking in the vicinity of the repair bay door, on either side of the hallway. They straightened a bit as Ironhide approached.

"Don't put on a show on mah account," Ironhide made stand-down motions with one hand, "I know ya wouldn't let anythin' get by. How long ya been out here?"

"Less than an hour," Sideswipe replied.

Sunstreaker spoke up, arms crossed over his chest and head bowed sulkily, "Part of that time was standing guard outside the washracks while Swoop gave his boyfriend a sponge bath. Can we go now?"

"That is not an image I needed in mah processor. Secure that nonsense an' come on in with me and I'll let ya know if we need yer services or not," Ironhide said, opening the door. "Hey Ratchet! How's ahr 'Con? Have ya removed his databanks yet?"

"Him Starrunner probably believe you Ironhide," Swoop replied quietly, coming toward the door to meet the trio. "You Lambos can go now, him Starrunner off-line, we handle when wake."

Sideswipe had breezed past Swoop, wanting a good look at the source of the chaos this morning. Now that he wasn't covered in mud, the Decepticon looked almost familiar. "Hey, Sunny, do we know this guy?" he turned to look at his brother who remained in the doorframe.

"No. How should I know? He looks like spare parts and we normally meet Seekers in jet-mode. Let's go so I can finish mopping the pavement with your aft." Only Sunstreaker could sound annoyed and teasing at the same time.

Sideswipe moved back toward the door, passing Ironhide and Swoop. "If he gives anything away, let me know," he glanced back at the partially disassembled mech, "I think I recognize him from somewhere." Ironhide gave a brief nod of his head and Swoop made to shoo Sideswipe out the door. "I'm going!" Sideswipe protested, shoving a little at his brother as he came up on the door. "Outta the way, Sunshine!" and they started to tussle a little as the door closed.

"They have too much fun," Ironhide mused, stalking over to the table where Starrunner lay. "Wooo. Ratchet did almost reduce him to spare parts. Wha'did he do, get belligerent when ya got him back here?" Taking a good look at Swoop he said, "You don't look any the worse for wear. Did he try to attack Ratchet? Or just refuse medical attention?"

"No," Swoop answered, shaking his crested head at Ironhide. "Him Starrunner quiet, too low on energon to stand in washrack. Him Ratchet kept finding more damage, then had to transform him Starrunner's side by hand." He looked back at their patient, "Me Swoop sent him Starrunner off-line - too much pain too low on energon. Started transfusion and him Ratchet went to talk to him Wheeljack about new cogs," Swoop thoughtfully picked up the mangled transformation gear cluster, "Him Starrunner unable to make jet-mode for now, maybe fix later. Ratchet think him Starrunner sparkling, maybe younger than me Swoop."

"Don't be identifyin' with him too much now, Swoop," Ironhide advised, "he's a Decepticon and might be here for any number o' reasons, most of 'em no good fer us."

"Him Starrunner say have data for him Jazz. Maybe data help Autobots, maybe data hurt Autobots," Swoop set the damaged cog down and started straightening out an armor plate that looked like it might be a shin guard. "We make him Starrunner whole root-mode then you Autobots decide what to do with him Starrunner. That not medic's call."

-X-X-X-

His audios were working again. Someone far away was asking, "Did you deactivate him?" The voice was cold and hard.

Another voice, "No, him Starrunner recharge now." Definitely the Dinobot, Swoop.

Better able to focus, he recognized the next voice as Number Four: "What're we gonna do with him?"

The cold baritone answered: "That depends on him."

The medic, Ratchet: "Do you want to talk to him now, or can it wait a few more hours while he recharges?"

There was a pause, then "It can wait." Another pause, then "Escort him to my office when he is motile." Starrunner thought he should recognize the cold voice; maybe it belonged to the one who had ordered Swoop to fly him here. He heard at least one Cybertronian leave the room.

Ratchet's voice: "Jazz, I almost hope the poor slagger doesn't come back on-line on his own."

Number Four: "Why's that Ratch'?"

Ratchet, moving farther away: "Right now, he is not a transformer. What you see is what you get." Pause. "Swoop, have you finished removing that propagule from Snarl's servo yet?"

Swoop: "Ya-awk! Yes, him Snarl almost done. Mangrove sprout did no damage to wiring."

Another voice: "Me Snarl leave now?"

Swoop: "Soon, when me Swoop secure last panel."

Starrunner got the idea someone was standing near him even though he had not heard one approach.

Ratchet: "Decepticon technology and ours parted ways a long time ago, Jazz. Even if I had liberty to fully repair him, I couldn't do it reliably without completely revamping his transformation sequence. Wheeljack's excited to have a modern 'Con transformation cog, but you know how his reverse-engineering projects go." Pause. "Poor slagger."

Number Four replied, sounding like he was standing right beside Starrunner's table: "He doesn't look bad at all, Ratch'."

He heard another approach his table. Turned out to be Ratchet, saying, "We do what we can. Other than his transformation cogs and his transceiver, he's complete." Pause. "According to this scan, he's back on-line, too, just listening again. Aren't ya, ya piece o' slag?"

Bringing his optics on-line, Starrunner answered the question as his creator taught him, "Sir. Yes, Sir." Number Four was standing with Ratchet on one side of his table. Both were looking at him with concern.

Ratchet's optic ridge twitched. He disconnected a pair of leads with a twist, saying "What did I tell you about that 'Sir'-slag?" and watching carefully for his patient's reaction to the movement.

Starrunner's face registered the pain but he didn't flinch. He accessed his memory banks to answer, "You said, 'Name's Ratchet.' Sir."

Looking satisfied with his handiwork, Ratchet replied to Starrunner but looked at Jazz, "That's right, smart aft, call me Ratchet. Jazz, you can take him out of here whenever you're ready." Then he turned back to Starrunner to add, "Knock it off with the formal Cybertronian, Sparklet, it won't help you."

"Yes, Ratchet." English, this time. Starrunner looked confused, watching Ratchet expertly disconnect all the other lines that had been attached to his systems and close the associated ports that had been open while he was off-line. Finding his energon levels at over ten percent now and his form essentially intact, Starrunner reminded himself to move only slowly, to remember that he did not really know these Cybertronians and even if he was feeling more spry than the entire last week he should not make any fast or presumptuous moves.

-X-X-X-

Jazz noted the expression on Starrunner's faceplates and agreed with Ratchet that he had to be a sparkling, certainly less than a vorn aware, possibly as young as the Dinobots. Perceptor had scanned the data storage media thoroughly, declaring it to be a collection of seemingly random media including a few movies and music and some files that looked like Decepticon home-movies of unknown transformers. No viruses, nothing particularly interesting to the Autobots. Jazz turned on one of his charming smiles and drew the canister of media from a pocket, watching Starrunner for any reaction to seeing it.

Starrunner recognized the canister in Jazz's hand and raised his optics to Jazz's visor, looking outright hopeful. Of what, Jazz could only guess. He offered the canister to the young mech, saying, "What do you think of _Alien_?" It was one of the movies in the collection, and one with which Jazz was familiar.

A worried look, more appropriate for a mech in an enemy medical facility, passed Starrunner's face. He looked at Ratchet, who was walking away after closing up his last bit of dermal plating. "Ratchet? May I sit up now?"

Surprised, but schooling his expression to be stern, Ratchet looked back at him and said, "Medically, you're clear. No transformation, no radio. Ask Jazz." Ratchet continued on deeper into the room to check Snarl over now that Swoop was finished.

Starrunner looked from Ratchet's retreating form to Jazz and back, making the connection in his processor that Number Four's name was Jazz. Returning to look up to Jazz's visor, he answered Jazz's question before asking his own again, "Sir, I find _Alien_ fascinating. May I sit up, Sir?"

"Yes, do sit up. You can have this back now if you want," Jazz held the canister out to Starrunner.

Sitting up, Starrunner took the offered canister gently and without opening it to verify its contents, attached it to a bracket on one wing.

Jazz didn't know many transformers who preferred bracketry to subspace anymore and tucked that bit of information away. He tried to draw Starrunner into conversation. "I've seen that movie, myself. The premise is interestin'. What about it got your attention?"

Grateful the Autobot was in no hurry get down to Starrunner's purpose in seeking him out in such a populated area, Starrunner thought for a moment before replying. "The humans imagined a species that would be as dangerous to Cybertronians as to themselves, Sir."

This was the second time this mech referred to their race where others would refer to their faction. That was as odd as the use of bracketry for storage. "Yeah, acid for blood. Like walkin' smeltin' pits. And they made the animals about our size when they're full grown. About the size of you an' me. You're kinda small, for a Seeker; what's your alt-mode?" Jazz turned the conversation where he wanted.

"MiG-29, Sir."

"MiG. Russian make. Aren't the other Seekers here modeled on American fighter jets, like an F-14 or somesuch?" Tone purely conversational.

"Yes Sir, the Trine that accompanied Lord Megatron aboard the Nemesis are now F-15s." Starrunner looked around the repair bay, studying the ceiling before trying to make optic contact with Jazz through the visor. "They make extensive use of subspace, Sir. Like Soundwave and his Casseticons, their modes require quite different volumes."

Registering that Starrunner had brightened and dimmed his optics on the word 'Casseticons', Jazz angled his face slightly toward the ceiling, still watching Starrunner closely. "Our comm specialist thinks he might be able to put some small 'Bots to work and carry 'em around like Soundwave does." He tilted his head back down to make it clear he was looking at Starrunner levelly. "I tell 'im he'd have too much trouble keepin' track of 'em, if they were half as slippery as the Casseticons. I bet they get away from Soundwave all the time now?" He could do that too, purposely brightening his optics a few percent on 'track', 'Casseticons' and 'now'.

"Yes Sir," Starrunner replied softly, "as humans say, they climb the walls and swing from the rafters."

Again, the slightly brighter optics on the words 'yes' and 'rafters'. Having spent his share of time in the shadows aboard the Nemesis, Jazz smiled cannily. "Prowl will never go for that, then - they might get loose in his office and trash the place. Can't have that. Speakin' o' Prowl, I think I'm better off takin' you to the brig." Brighter optics on 'his office' and 'taking', Jazz had no intention of taking the 'Con to the brig just yet. This was fun. If there were a Casseticon listening from the ventilation system of the Ark, though, he wanted to send him on an errand. Rustling noises in the ventilation system were fairly common and generally dismissed as animals. Jazz thought he heard small noises almost constantly, but no one else seemed to, so he dismissed them. If Starrunner were right, thank Primus the ventilation system was independent of the hallway layout - a watcher could not follow a moving conversation. "Stand up slowly and hold your hands out, wrists together."

Looking disappointed, Starrunner slowly levered himself off the repair table. He tested his knee a bit as Jazz picked up a set of energon bonds from the supplies Ratchet had left laid out beside his table. Starrunner recognized his damaged transformation gear cluster. Before Jazz activated the bonds, he asked impulsively, "Sir, may I have that?" and indicated the mangled cog.

The odd request made perfect sense to Jazz - it always struck him to see parts of his body lying around, even when they'd been replaced already - so he assented. Starrunner tucked the bit of metal away inside his canopy, then held out his wrists to be bound. Again, no subspace pocket accessed. Jazz set the restraint in place and energized it. "Go on toward the door," Jazz directed his charge.

"Yes Sir," Starrunner acknowledged, moving slowly toward the door, optics downcast and body language defeated.

"Hey, Ratch'! We're headin' out now," Jazz said, voice pitched to carry to Ratchet at the back of the shop.

"Good!" Ratchet replied. Then, before Jazz had taken two steps toward where the Decepticon waited, Ratchet added, "Shouldn't you have another 'Bot with you? Prisoner protocol and all?"

Jazz smiled mischievously as he glanced back over his shoulder to answer. He wouldn't mind letting Prowl lecture him later on the protocols he was about to ignore. "Nah, Ratch', we'll be fine!"

There was hurried conversation in the back that even Jazz's sensitive audios couldn't sort out. Jazz drew even with Starrunner and had one hand on the door actuator and the other firmly on Starrunner's elbow when they heard someone walking quickly toward them. Turning, Jazz began, "Now, there's no need - " but was cut off.

"Awwk! Me Swoop go with." And when he thought Jazz was going to protest again, "Ratchet say!"

Starrunner looked hopeful again. Swoop wore his usual happy, open expression. Jazz resigned himself to losing the ground he'd gained with his informant: surely Swoop's presence would prevent him getting any information out of Starrunner while they walked. "Okay, Swoop, let's go."

Jazz was wrong about Swoop's effect. Swoop walked behind them and Jazz decided to let Starrunner walk without keeping that firm grip on his arm. Starrunner actually spoke first in the hallway, at low volume, surprising Jazz. "Sir, does the climate control system follow the passageways here?" he asked.

"No, not on this level," Jazz answered, matching Starrunner's volume.

"Did you observe the Casseticon above the repair bay, Sir?"

Swoop registered Starrunner's quiet question and squawked. Jazz shushed him quietly. "No, I didn't see him. Which one is it?"

"Laserbeak or Buzzsaw, Sir. Do you know that approximately seventy-five percent of the time there is at least one Casseticon inside the Ark, Sir?"

Jazz looked at him, disbelieving. "We know they get in, but it sounds like you're saying they have a permanent duty cycle goin' in here." Jazz steered them around a corner toward the offices. This bad news was a relief for Jazz: he'd been to Ratchet twice to get his audios checked, thinking he was hearing things that weren't there because none of the others heard what he did.

"Yes Sir. Laserbeak, Buzzsaw and Ravage work mostly six days on followed by two days off when Soundwave comes over to get them and take them home to report and have some R-and-R. Sir."

Swoop made a little bird noise behind them, slowing his pace to look up at the ceiling tiles. Jazz glanced at him briefly and slowed down with Starrunner who seemed to be trying to match Swoop's pace. "Almost there," he said.

"Are you sure Prowl's office is free from eavesdroppers, Sir?" Starrunner's quiet tone remained level despite the nervous posture.

"We'll check it out when we get there," Jazz answered distractedly, coming to Prowl's office door. He decided to work the chime rather than just key it open like he usually did.

Jazz had just enough time to recognize the look on Starrunner's face as one of distress between hearing Prowl's professional-sounding "Enter," and the opening of the door. Prowl had opened the door remotely; he was just sitting at his desk behind a set of datapads and his console. Jazz saw nothing that should have spooked his charge.

-X-X-X-

The cold voice that had asked about his deactivation when he came on-line said, "Enter." He could place it now: it reminded him of that Constructicon, Scrapper. Suddenly in a bit of a panic - surely this cold-voiced Prowl was their resident torturer! - Starrunner stood stock still. His energon pump faltered a cycle. Deactivation, he had prepared himself for; treatment like he knew Hook and his brothers could dole out, he had not. Hadn't the other Seekers sneered that the Autobots didn't have that in their sparks? But they also said Prowl had a logic center that could put any Decepticon's to shame. Wasn't it logical to take everything a Cybertronian knew rather than allow him to choose the information he shared?

Number Four proceeded halfway into the room. Swoop stood behind Starrunner, looking down at all three Cybertronians in front of him. Prowl looked up from his desk, making optic contact with Number Four, seeming to ignore Starrunner. "Do you intend to leave him in the hallway?" Prowl asked.

Number Four replied, "No," and turned to Starrunner. "Come on in with me," he said, his smile almost encouraging. Starrunner started moving again, knowing he'd left himself out of options.

Prowl looked up, registering Swoop's presence. "You may go now, Swoop. Thank you."

Swoop looked from Prowl to Number Four, then watched Starrunner cross the threshold into Prowl's office. "If you Autobots need me Swoop come back, call medical," he offered. Starrunner cast his optics back at Swoop with a look of despair.

-X-X-X-

After opening his office door, Prowl made a show of ignoring their prisoner even while he cataloged what he could about him. He was definitely the fourth Seeker seen during the skirmish in Africa, the one whom the Twins reported nearly shaved Sunstreaker off of Thundercracker in a vertical dive, the one whom he himself watched pull first a battered Starscream then an uncooperative Grimlock out of the muck. In the bright office light, Prowl could see Ratchet had made repairs to the Seeker's wings, the black-on-black wing markers were nearly obliterated. Perhaps someone had tried to remove them by force. Still addressing Jazz, Prowl said, "Have a seat." Why a mech who showed no fear of Grimlock should look at him as if he were the Unmaker himself, Prowl had no idea.

Jazz's smile broadened, he knew exactly how they were going to play this, despite what Prowl said earlier. "Starrunner," he said, and indicated the chair on the right in front of Prowl's desk. After the jet answered with a 'yessir' and was settled in the chair, awkward with his hands bound, Jazz took the chair on the left.

Prowl began. "Why are you here?" addressing Jazz, clearly.

Jazz answered, "Starrunner here has offered information."

Starrunner only looked down at his hands and waited, wondering why he was allowed to sit in this office during their conversation.

"What sort of information does this Decepticon offer you?" Prowl asked, keeping any indication of purpose out of his voice. No hint of curiosity, suspicion or even disdain.

"So far, he's told me we're under surveillance by Casseticons fifty percent of the time," Jazz offered, deliberately misquoting Starrunner to get a reaction. Starrunner did not disappoint, looking up immediately, first at Prowl, then at Jazz, fear in his optics. Starrunner did not make a sound, though, even though he obviously wished to make optic contact with Jazz. Jazz gave him an opening, "Isn't that right, Starrunner?"

Starrunner looked flabbergasted, unwilling now to even turn his face in Prowl's direction. Prowl knew Jazz would have changed something about what their informant said, testing him, probably subtle like one particular Casseticon or the percentage. Starrunner did not want to contradict Jazz for some reason, but he finally answered the question, "N-no, Sir. Close to seventy-five percent, Sir." English, but in the style of the formal Cybertronian. The demeanor made sense to Prowl now: someone had trained into this youngster the extreme deference shown superiors before the last Golden Age.

"How do you know this is true?" Prowl asked, still addressing Jazz.

"I heard that faint rustling in the ventilation system again, above the repair bay, right before Starrunner here insisted he saw movement." He turned to Starrunner with an encouraging smile, "Laserbeak, correct?"

"Yes Sir, or Buzzsaw." Starrunner fidgeted a bit.

"And I planted the seed that we were goin' to the brig. If he's right, might be able to catch a spy in the air ducts there," Jazz offered.

Starrunner again looked down at his hands. He cycled air through his intakes quickly: this waiting for the worst was driving him to overheat.

"The brig. That is reasonable. You know, there is only one way into that section of ductwork." Prowl brought up the comm desk on his console. Blaster was still on duty - his jovial response came through clearly. Prowl got straight to business. "Send the cleaning crew down to the brig. Tell them to go quietly and have the Minibot in the group enter the ductwork at the last junction en route. And Blaster," Prowl paused, reaching the conclusion that even if it were only local animals as they'd all assumed, they needed to police the ductwork more often, he added, "tell them to go armed in case the animal is not biological."

"Oh my, oh my! Will do, Prowl. Are we expecting a kitty-con or a birdie-con?" Blaster sounded like this was the most interesting thing he'd heard all day.

Prowl made optic contact with Jazz and dimmed first one optic, then the other quickly, the transformer equivalent of rolling his eyes. No one else had a chance to notice, Starrunner was still staring at his own hands and Blaster was calling up the roster for the current cleaning crew. "Avian-type, Laserbeak or Buzzsaw. But they should be prepared for anything."

"I'll get 'em rollin' on it, Prowl. Today, all three are Minibots." Blaster sounded like he wanted to say more but thought better of it.

"That's fine." Prowl almost cut the connection, then reconsidered, seeing concern flash across Jazz's face, "Put two of them in the duct and send a Dinobot to the brig with the other one." Knowing Blaster was about to ask which Dinobot, Prowl added, "Grimlock. He knows how to be quiet." Then he closed the connection and addressed Jazz. "If you are right, the Decepticons not only know your informant is missing, Jazz, but they know where he is. How is this useful?"

"I'm sure he's got more data for me, don'tcha, Starrunner?" Again, Jazz playing mediator.

"Yes Sir, I do," Starrunner replied, choosing to keep his head and optics down.

Conspiratorially, Jazz leaned closer to the young mech and said, "I'm tryin' to help ya. But you have to start talkin'."

Prowl gave Jazz a look that said, 'Don't make promises we can't keep,' but refrained from comment, letting Jazz exert his charisma on this stranger.

Remembering how he'd started the conversation in medical, Jazz prodded, "How'd you come by your jet-mode? MiG, right? That's different from all the other Seekers we've seen here."

Starrunner glanced at Jazz sidelong, then returned his optics to his lap. Prowl reached the conclusion that it was more likely an elaborate deception than Decepticon science had produced such a creature.

Then Starrunner started talking. Jazz encouraged him occasionally as he softly, formally, explained that he was the first new Seeker to be sent to Earth to expand the Decepticon presence. His creator chose his alt-mode to be the most widely used fighter jet, so he could blend in more places. He was more efficient, using almost no subspace technology in either mode, but he was a smaller Cybertronian and did not innately garner the fear and respect the larger Seekers immediately commanded. He was openly considered a failed experiment - jet planes on Earth always drew the attention of the public, it seemed - so an entire Trine of Cybertronian jets were en route who weren't even going to bother taking on an Earthly form. Soon the Autobots would be facing six experienced Seekers. "I met them before transferring to Earth, Sir. They are easily meaner and stronger than the three already here." He was warming to his topic: he hated the other Seekers at least as much as they hated him. "Sir, I have video of the three in-bound Seekers. May I show you?"

Prowl and Jazz were both watching and listening to Starrunner closely. Starrunner looked up to Jazz's visor. Jazz glanced at Prowl, then met Starrunner's optics, "Yes, o' course! What type o' file is it?"

Starrunner slowly held his bound hands out to Jazz who deactivated the restraints. Without hesitation or extra movement, Starrunner removed the canister from its bracket on his right wing and gently removed the hard disk to lay on his lap, then the CDs, then shook the smaller items out into his palm. Setting the canister down beside him, he selected one USB drive and offered it to Jazz, saying, "We converted it to a RIFF, Sir."

Jazz took the tiny proffered drive and gingerly handed it to Prowl who set about attaching it to a hub he used as a buffer on his console. Turning back to Starrunner, he said, "We? So someone at the Nemesis knew you were comin' here?" Prowl caught the slight change in Jazz's vocalization that signaled the end of his term as the 'good cop' and wondered if his prey noticed.

Starrunner had caught the subtle shift. His faceplate betrayed his distress. "Sir?"

"You said, 'we converted it'," Jazz let the smile completely leave his lip components. Prowl deduced from Starrunner's expression that it was the first time since seeing Jazz in medical.

"Ye-es, Sir. My friend Cobweb helped me. He - is better with computer interfaces than I am. He does not know I am here. Sir." His speech was speeding up in his distress, nearly rivaling Bluestreak. "The other Seekers intended to deactivate me - I let them think I crashed in Mongolia, Sir." Starrunner looked positively frightened.

"You brought this data with you, set yourself squarely on a route we patrol. You planned this out in advance." Jazz consciously strove for clipped, cold words, turning the table on their guest.

Prowl pretended to be completely focused on the task of opening up the file, waiting for Jazz to send the young Decepticon in his direction. Jazz pushed: "Why did you ask for me?"

-X-X-X-

Spelled out in a tone nearly as offended as Starscream could muster, his actions sounded downright malicious. Number Four continued: "Why did you ask for me?"

Taken aback by Number Four's sudden change of tone, Starrunner glanced Prowl's way only to find he was focused tightly on coaxing the file off the little drive. Starrunner looked desperately back at Number Four but the visor revealed nothing. Starrunner still stared over into it hopefully. "Because you always do reasonable things. Sir! I've never seen another Cybertronian behave as consistently sensibly as you." Prowl looked up at that, and Starrunner noticed immediately, making optic contact with him hopefully. Now addressing Prowl in earnest, Starrunner continued, "Sir! N-not that I've seen other Autobots in action more than once each, but, Sir! Compared to the representatives of the other camps of Cybertronians on Earth, Number Four - Jazz - has been consistent. Reasonable." Starrunner looked back down at the mess of storage media in his hand and lap, "Honorable."

-X-X-X-

That was logical: the sparkling was looking for a leader and had found his options lacking. Prowl chose to address the Decepticon directly now, no use continuing to ignore Starrunner now that Jazz had traded roles with him. "That's the core of it, is it not? You are obviously quite young. Socialized as a Decepticon only briefly." He paused to let that supposition sink in. Then, to ensure the 'Con was off-balance in the conversation, he asked a sensitive question in an expressionless tone as if it had bearing on the situation, "Do you know if your spark has worn a different form or did your creator receive it directly from Vector Sigma?"

Prowl could tell Jazz was shocked by what he'd just asked the mech, but even other Autobots wouldn't have been able to read Jazz right then - that's why Jazz always wore the visor when others could observe him. Starrunner was speechless. Shaking slightly, he dropped a data chit to the floor. "Go on and put that away," Prowl directed, trying to add just a touch of kindliness to his vocalization, "and then try to answer my question."

Starrunner complied, slowly putting the items from his right hand in the canister, followed by the items he'd set on his lap where he sat. His hands shook. He carefully capped the canister and reattached it to its bracket. Then he looked on the floor for the stray storage device. Thankfully, he saw it under his own chair, where he could reach it. He picked it up and offered it to Prowl directly. "This one contains a copy of the data Shockwave keeps on suspicious activity on Cybertron. Sir. I brought it to Earth because Shockwave wanted me to give it to Soundwave, but Soundwave would not accept it from me. Told me to erase the data from my memory, Sir. Shockwave thought it was important even if Soundwave doesn't - maybe it will be useful to you."

Prowl accepted it and placed it in the hub. "I see," he said, "you followed Soundwave's order by erasing it from your memory banks only after making a portable copy." Good: Starrunner obviously assumed that was another strike against him. Prowl continued before Starrunner had a chance to speak again, "Now, answer my question."

Starrunner returned to the pose he'd adopted when his hands were bound, staring down at them. "Sir, I do not know. My creator refused to speak on it and punished me for asking."

The air in the room seemed to crackle with tension at that moment. Prowl reveled in it, having purposely stirred it; a glance at Jazz showed that he was at his most calculating. Prowl returned his attention to Starrunner. "When have you observed Jazz?"

Starrunner's gaze flicked to Jazz, then back to his folded hands. "Sir. When Number Four - Jazz - when he infiltrated the Nemesis. I-I've seen him several times, Sir. I followed him as best I could. He..." Starrunner trailed off. Cycling air through his cooling system a little faster, he continued, now looking at Jazz, "Sir, you always went solely for the target I would have chosen, for the one project in work at the time that was most ... wrong." He looked back down at his hands, tightly clenched in his lap, then back up at Prowl. "Sir, Number Four could have killed us all, any of the times I saw him in our base, but he didn't. He got in somehow, worked his way to the latest planet-destroying device or Cybertronian-mutilating weapon and sabotaged it. Not our life-support system, not any necessary structure, just the ... latest abomination." He stared down again, then off-lined his optics. Softly, he added, "Number Four came in and took out the thing I knew I should destroy, but was too frightened to take action. Sir."

For at least a full minute, the only sounds in the room were the vital systems of three transformers. Somewhere deep in the Ark, someone fired a blaster.

"Well," Prowl said, "that answers the question of the spy in the air duct."

-X-X-X-

Processing Starrunner's words, "...when he infiltrated the Nemesis... I've seen him several times," Jazz's bad temper ceased to be put-on. He was stunned by what he perceived as his own incompetence: as the Autobots' espionage expert and saboteur, he should have never been noticed by his prey, let alone identified and monitored. How had this Decepticon followed him on his forays? The last several times he'd been to the Nemesis, he'd developed an unreasonable fear of discovery, a sense of being watched that began around the residence deck and continued until he'd accomplished the mission. Unable to detect a watcher, Jazz had convinced himself it was his imagination. What a fool he was, he thought, to have somehow been detected by another transformer! Worse than that, he had been unable to locate his observer.

The sound of the blaster brought him back to Prowl's office and their prisoner.

Feeling argumentative now - something he'd deny if anyone but Prowl accused him of it - Jazz finally processed the tone of Starrunner's last statement. Stationed with the Earth-side Decepticon command, presented with a Seeker Trine that was the pride of the War Academy in their day, this mech who insisted on the use of the word 'Cybertronian' where others would identify their faction or their subgroup, watched the spy who came to sabotage his leaders' projects and decided that it was the most reasonable course of action. Jazz watched Prowl but slowly addressed their visitor. "Now that you're here, what is it you expect us to do?"

Starrunner did not move. He did not on-line his optics. Jazz thought for a moment that he was not going to answer.

Barely audibly, shaking as if he were vocalizing his greatest hope and greatest fear, Starrunner explained. "Sir, there are a limited number of things for you to do. You might deactivate me, which is better than what my shipmates will do if they find me alive in anything like my current state. That's better for me than if I had not set myself on your patrol route. You might torture me for fun before you deactivate me, which is what my faction will do if they find me and what was likely to happen if you'd left me where I was yesterday." He paused to cycle air through his cooling system a little faster and clenched his fists so hard the metal flexed. He on-lined his optics but kept his head bowed, vocalizing with more certainty, "I have seen enough of your faction to believe that is not the Autobot way." He relaxed his hands and slowly splayed his fingers out on his thighs. "You might turn me out, Sir, which puts me precisely where I was yesterday but better off with my leaks patched and my solar arrays accessible. You might imprison me in your brig, which puts me significantly better off than I was yesterday: under a roof and away from my shipmates." His optics flickered up at Prowl, then Jazz, before he raised his head to look straight ahead, seemingly addressing the wall behind Prowl's desk. "I have been a slave, designed purposefully to come to Earth, antagonize the small creatures and steal energon from the planet. I have some skills, Sir, that your garrison might find useful. You might, logically, extend to me the same opportunity afforded Skyfire, whom the Decepticons call traitor, and allow me a time to prove my worth in my own way."

-X-X-X-

Hours later, Jazz and Prowl walked down to the brig to take a look at the damage caused by Grimlock and the now-contained spy, Laserbeak.

In no hurry to actually arrive there - Brawn's report had been both thorough and entertaining - they took their time. Jazz had partially regained his humor, after taking a turn at target practice outside to clear his CPU of his disappointment that such a sparkling had not only noticed his presence aboard the Nemesis but followed him on his errands. Not once, but several times. He shook his head and said, "I can't believe I'm gettin' so sloppy."

Visor dim and posture less than jaunty, Prowl knew Jazz was going over the missions again and again in his processor, looking for anything his sensors had detected but he'd dismissed. "Have you thought that maybe it is not so much a matter of you getting sloppy but of that one young Decepticon having some exceptional skill?" Prowl offered. He walked with both hands clasped behind his back as he'd seen some humans do, not because it was particularly comfortable or conveyed some specific message, but because it allowed him to casually brush his shoulder against Jazz as they walked without anything overt to show up on the security feeds. He did so at that moment, just to make sure Jazz was paying attention. "It is not always about you."

Jazz looked at him at that gentle jibe. "Well!" he huffed, starting to smile. "It should be!" And he laughed a little. Prowl joined him.

"Sparkling could be dangerous," Prowl began a few steps later. "Skills like that are obviously not good for us in Decepticon control." He held up a hand, knowing Jazz would make assumptions and protest what he thought Prowl was saying if he didn't get the whole idea out in one shot. "Wait. Hear me out. He detected your presence aboard the Nemesis and instead of attacking you or raising an alarm, he watched you, decided you were doing something there he wished he could. This kid basically followed you home from work." Jazz's visor brightened a little at Prowl's use of the word 'kid' - it was normally reserved for Bluestreak. "He apparently has stalking abilities to rival your own. Flew away from all he ever knew, to give us - you - a few pieces of information he thought could prove vital. Sought you out because you came to represent the only sane camp of mechs on the planet." He paused. "Considering that our competition on that score consists of the Decepticons on the Nemesis, the gypsy Insecticons, and the Constructicons in the desert, obviously, I find his logic sound."

"Do you think the others will tolerate him, if we let him try to make a place for himself here?"

Prowl shrugged. "Not everyone in our ranks gets along as it is. He can't be any more trouble than the Twins or Warpath." Prowl named their pranksters and their resident klutz.

Jazz dimmed optics briefly in agreement and they continued down the hall.

Prowl brushed shoulders with him again. "That was a good idea you had, to place him under 'house arrest' with that locator chip on his wing. I helped Wheeljack test it while you were outside: if he strays beyond the common room, his work area, and the direct route between, the alarm will trip and the Autobot on comm duty will send enforcers. Wheeljack decided Starrunner can work at opening up the forward sections of the Ark deeper into the mountain while we gauge if he is what he claims to be." Prowl paused, considering whether Jazz would tolerate his next suggestion or not. "If things go well, he might make a good addition to your team. After all, none of us can detect you when you put your processor to it, but he did."

Jazz accepted that last remark without comment. Something deeper was bothering him, but he'd focused on being detected to try to avoid it. "You know what really dampens my spark, Prowl? The thing he said about being a slave. Being created for a specific purpose by the Decepticons, being fitted with a body specifically for that purpose. I mean, none of us chooses the body he's sparked in, but the whole reason we're Autobots is to choose how we use what we have. Even the Dinobots have chosen to remain here with us, and they briefly went over to Megatron for a taste of the Slag-maker's way. They couldn't have been brought back by any force we could muster: they went and saw with their own optics the difference between Megatron and Optimus. That's what it really comes down to, Prowl." Jazz stopped in the hallway. Prowl stopped a step later and turned to look at him. "We are just as guilty of creating slaves as they are. Cosmos, specifically, comes to my processor. We haven't been good enough to him. I know he was with us long before his original body was destroyed, just needed a new working frame to be animate again. But maybe that's worse. Has anybody even bothered to ask him if he's okay with being in orbit for days on end? If he feels any sense of accomplishment, purpose, being our relay satellite and remote sensor suite most of the time? If he would rather we'd left him alone in stasis?"

"I don't mean to dismiss your concern for Cosmos, Jazz, but he believes in what we're doing and does what his form is now uniquely equipped to do." Prowl started walking again, then stopped after a few steps when Jazz remained stationary.

"No one's form limits him so much to just one task, like Cosmos', not even Warpath or Seaspray!" Jazz protested.

"I disagree," Prowl frowned, processor racing. "Omega Supreme cannot come inside the Ark yet he does not leave for accommodations more to his scale. Under normal circumstances he is limited to sentry duty and an occasional turn in orbit to give Cosmos a break. Skyfire is an explorer by nature yet remains here on a planet he can circle in an hour, pulling mostly sentry and orbital duty, like Omega. With the exception of Swoop, the Dinobots are limited to the roles of sentry and brute labor, when they aren't chosen as our front line. Grimlock aspires to leadership: I'm not even sure the other Dinobots follow his lead reliably. Bumblebee is often the only one of us who can investigate human facilities: he goes because he knows this. He is not one we will send to counter Devastator, no matter how much he might desire the fight." Realizing his logic might not be obvious to his friend, he lightened his expression and added, "As stealthy as I can be, and much as I might like to, I don't ask to join your team on missions because it requires the ability to improvise. In that circumstance, my logic center would be a liability." Jazz looked like he might dispute that, but Prowl allowed a slight self-deprecating look on his face and continued, "Cosmos, like the rest of us, recognizes the uniqueness of his talents and the necessity to use them. Maybe you should talk to him when he has liberty in a few days. You're just the one to ask him how he finds his duty cycles: I don't know a single 'Bot who could keep a secret from you if his spark depended on it." Prowl smiled slowly, seeing he was bringing Jazz out of the funk he'd been in all afternoon. He delivered his last encouraging idea: "Now we have evidence that you even draw Decepticons to tell you what they know."

Jazz smiled, visor back at nominal brightness. "Yeah. That just goes to prove that programming doesn't dictate so much. Each spark chooses his own way."

They started walking again and arrived at the damaged door to the brig. Prowl began to inspect the mechanisms. "We could reformat Grimlock as a gazelle-bot and he still would have not an iota of grace."

Jazz laughed. For having a logic-only processor, Prowl could come up with some non-sequitur images when he wanted. "Ya mean ya don't think Laserbeak did that?" Obviously Grimlock's work, but Jazz felt up to joking around again.

Prowl forced a blank expression as he delivered his answer, pretending to take Jazz's remark seriously, "I know you will have no trouble persuading him to tell you about the encounter with Grimlock himself, being a captive audience." Still expressionless, he reached out to stop Jazz's forward progress: "On second thought, let Blaster deal with Laserbeak."

Jazz looked taken aback and was about to ask why when Prowl continued, clearly teasing, "We need him to want to leave."


	3. Down to the Casing

Title: _Down to the Casing_

Sequel to _Skimming the Surface_ and _Under the Plating_

Universe: loosely G1 cartoon after the appearance of the Constructicons on Earth.

Rated: PG, so K+.

Pairing: None. Jazz/Prowl in the background if you squint.

Author's Notes: Recognizable Characters/Names belong to Hasbro/Takara. I'm just playing with them. Starrunner is my offspring. 13300 words.

-:-radio transmission-:-

* * *

Nearly a week after the incident in Africa, Optimus Prime returned from New York with Red Alert. Prowl and Ironhide met them when Skyfire landed outside the Ark. Ironhide accompanied Red Alert to the comm center, using the time to tell the visiting security director about the measures taken to stop the Casseticons' surveillance. Prowl walked with Prime to his office to debrief. Skyfire wandered off with Omega Supreme, talking about something he'd seen in suborbital space. 

"The Decepticons have been inactive since Nigeria and we have monitored no reports of suspicious activity." Prowl stopped. Prime settled behind his desk. Jazz came to stand at the door, arms folded casually over his chest.

Optimus looked up, concerned: the silence felt expectant. Looking from Prowl to Jazz and back, he said, "You both look like you have a secret. Sit, Prowl, and give me the bad news."

Jazz laughed. Prime gave him an amused look.

Prowl was impassive; he sat in one of the chairs across from Prime and fully met his commander's optics. "As you know, we have two Decepticon prisoners in custody. Laserbeak is in a cell in the brig. He shut down yesterday after refusing energon for three days. Ratchet says he is in a stable stasis. That should make it easier to return him to his maker. Starrunner is at physical labor. Jazz interviews him daily, gaining more insight into the Decepticon forces here and on Cybertron."

Optimus' focus shifted to Jazz. "Join us, Jazz, and close the door. I'd like to hear what this Decepticon has told you."

As serious as Optimus had ever seen him, Jazz fluidly did as he was bid. Perched on the edge of the seat, he smiled perfunctorily. "Most of what he says makes a lot of sense, too much sense. Some of it should be incredible, but in context I have no reason not to believe every word. Every word, Prime." Jazz recounted the sessions with his informant.

The door cycled and Ironhide stepped into the room. Prime acknowledged his friend's entrance and summarized their conversation so far.

"Optimus," Ironhide drawled, "Prowl ruins a good story tellin' it." Prowl looked likely to protest, Jazz looked like he was enjoying some private joke with Ironhide. "The youngster had data he wanted ta give Jazz and threw himself on Prowl's mercy because he trusted whatever we'd do with him would be better'n what the Decepticons'd do to 'im. By the look of him when we found him, Optimus, I'd say deactivation would be better'n what the 'Cons'd already done. So far, he's shapin' up ta be a sparklet who found himself on the wrong side o' right. We've had no trouble from 'im."

Optimus marveled that his friend knew exactly what he was waiting to hear. He looked solemnly from his officers to Ironhide and back, "Do you trust this Starrunner to cooperate?"

The four of them talked for several breems, coming up with what Prowl and Optimus thought was a reasonable story to feed the Casseticon. They needed Red Alert to be himself and escort Starrunner to the brig, then they would stage some footage of the Dinobots interrogating their prisoner. Ironhide thought it was not worth the trouble and they might as well just prepare to respond when Megatron and Starscream attempted to retrieve their asset. Jazz thought the whole thing was a recipe for unpleasantness with the little data they had. United, Optimus and Prowl resolved to push forward with their plan. This was an unprecedented opportunity. More importantly, Optimus thought that if Starrunner had detected Jazz and remained hidden himself, they could not risk his return to Megatron's service. Prowl, Ironhide and Jazz already seemed to take the 'Con's change of allegiance for fact. Optimus knew Ironhide's tendency to make snap decisions about new mechs and took his old friend's assessment of the youngster as only as good as any first impression. Conversely, the identical attitude toward the Seeker was out of character for his executive officer; Optimus reasoned there must be some data Prowl had already processed and archived that left him convinced. Still more weighty: Jazz was actively considering this Starrunner as a potential addition to his small team of infiltrators. Optimus was loathe to second-guess him. He never claimed to understand what method led Jazz to select the few 'Bots he did, and he could not argue with their success.

"I'm ready to meet Grimlock's friend," he declared, referring to the first time they'd seen this new Seeker. He stood up.

Ironhide walked out to sit at his desk in the anteroom before Prime's office. "I'll hold down the fort here and bring Grimlock up ta speed. D'ya want me to have anyone meet ya on the way?"

Prowl stopped in the doorway to the corridor; Jazz and Prime at Ironhide's desk. "Wheeljack," Prowl said.

"Ratchet," Prime said nearly at the same instant.

"Right," Ironhide drew the syllable out. "I'll locate 'em and send 'em yer way. But Optimus, why Ratch'?"

"Because if we're going to get the Dinobots to make this look real, Ratchet will have work to do. I'm not going to implement this plan until Ratchet has agreed to his part."

-X-X-X-

Starrunner heard their approach before they announced themselves. He recognized the tread of Number Four: the cadence of it was forever part of his memory since following him through the Nemesis. There were at least two others in the corridor with him. He chose to keep working in case they had come to verify that he was diligently applying himself. Number Four's voice came to him down the hall: "...don't like this idea."

The cold-voiced one, Prowl, replied, "We must at the very least discourage them from thinking to retrieve him. Until Laserbeak reports back, they have no reason to question his demise in Mongolia."

Prowl walked slightly past the entry to the room where Starrunner was working, Number Four a half-step behind him. Number Four - _Jazz_, he needed to think of him using his true name more consistently - heard or saw Starrunner in the essentially dark room and stopped, taking Prowl by the elbow and saying, "He's in here, working in the dark." Shining his headlights into the room, Jazz walked in followed by Prowl. "How's it going my man?" he asked jovially, smiling as he looked around at the progress Starrunner had made, breaking up the rock where the mountain had crushed and claimed the forward section of the ship.

Starrunner brought his right hand up to shield his optics as they adjusted to the bright light from Jazz. He returned the greeting with as much energy as he could spare, straightening up to converse properly, "Well, I think, Jazz-sir. It's beginning to look like-" he stopped mid-sentence. The smile died on his lip components. Optimus Prime was stepping into the room behind Prowl. Starrunner would recognize him anywhere. He immediately dropped his optics to the floor and went down on both knees. "Lord Prime," he breathed in the most deferential Cybertronian.

The three Autobots stood frozen a tick. As the echo of metal-on-stone passed down the corridor from Starrunner hitting the deck, Prowl and Jazz turned to look at their commander standing in the doorway. Optimus Prime shook his head and said in English, "Shockwave's training," stepping slowly forward past them. He stopped just out of arm's reach from the kneeling Decepticon. Prowl added his headlights to Jazz's, making the room a mix of bright light and stark shadows. "My name is Optimus Prime. Do not kneel before me, Starrunner. A free being does not kneel to anyone nor require it of another." Starrunner rose slowly to his feet, optics still averted. "That won't do. Look at me when I speak to you," the Autobot leader instructed gently. Starrunner lifted his eyes in Lord Prime's direction. "I am a simple warrior. Primus and my creator saw fit to gift me with certain attributes necessary to the preservation of freedom. I am not a 'lord' of anything. Like all remaining autonomous bots, I serve as best I am capable to ensure the continued existence of free Cybertronians and other sentient species." Starrunner dared look up at the blue optics above the battle mask, then averted his again to the Autobot symbol on the red shoulder. He could see Number Four past the larger Autobot but could not be sure of optical contact with him at this distance because of the visor and now the headlights. "No one chooses where his life begins. Very few choose to so completely change the course of their lives as you appear to intend. Do you understand our need to be satisfied you are acting on your own will?"

After a few cycles of his energon pump, Starrunner found his voice to reply. He used the local language as Lord Prime chose, "Yes, Lord Prime - Optimus Prime - Sir." He was watching Number Four. Was that a nod from him? It must have been, and Prowl offered a look that Starrunner chose to take as encouraging. He convinced himself to truly meet Lord Prime's gaze. Lord Prime seemed so sincere, as reasonable as Number Four and nearly as kindly as Ratchet. Dare he believe they were all so? "I understand, Sir."

Ratchet appeared in the doorway with Wheeljack. All registered their arrival and quickly returned their attention to either their leader or their uncomfortable guest.

"So," Lord Prime began, looking around the area before returning to meet Starrunner's eyes, "you are already aware of the conditions of our facilities here. Prowl and Jazz assure me that the information you've provided is invaluable. We'll see to it that better lighting and ventilation are installed back here but I am not prepared to offer you more liberty within the Ark."

Starrunner continued to meet Lord Prime's optics. Could a leader of Cybertronians, distinguished as the chief enemy of the Decepticons, really be so genuine, so approachable? Starrunner dared not speak without a clear invitation. He felt something start to drip inside his shin plating again. Apparently hitting the floor suddenly like that had ruptured a coolant line in his left leg. His energon levels were already low: he'd turned the alarm off the previous day when it began to bother him at four percent. It seemed self-repair was costly. Although Prowl had assured him the common room was within his bounds, he'd stayed stoically in his work area since being escorted there after having the chip installed on his starboard wing. He had not felt comfortable asking anyone how much energon he was allowed and feared taking too much, more than he feared going into stasis. Stasis in this camp would probably get him carried gently back to the repair bay, not scavenged for spare parts before a friend found him. Besides, Ratchet and Swoop were very kind and might even take his levels up higher than he was used to again.

Lord Prime asked if he'd fueled. "No Sir," he answered, surprised at the turn of the commander's thoughts. Was that an invitation to join the ranking Cybertronian for energon? He almost asked Lord Prime to repeat himself, but his audio receptors had never failed him before and his auto-record function verified the invitation. "Yes, Sir, thank you," he faltered, remembering this was a completely different culture, "Lo- Optimus Prime, Sir." The Prime walked between Prowl and Number Four, and Starrunner followed slowly. Optimus Prime asked about Skyfire and waited for him in the hallway - waited for him as if he were a guest, a colleague, or friend. Starrunner felt still more nervous than he would have thought possible.

-X-X-X-

Optimus wanted to draw the young mech into conversation and realized this may not be the right circumstance for it. Even he felt awkward in the beams from two pair of headlights with the optics of four 'Bots at his back and Starrunner cornered in what amounted to a cave. "...I am not prepared to offer you more liberty within the Ark." He continued, "But the galley is open to you. Have you taken energon today?"

"No Sir."

Optimus half turned away from Starrunner, motioning for the Seeker to accompany him. "Neither have I. Please, join us." Ratchet and Wheeljack drew back from the door, clearly understanding they should lead the way to the common room.

"Yes, Sir, thank you. Lo- Optimus Prime, Sir," Starrunner accepted the invitation haltingly as Optimus started to leave the room.

The two remaining 'Bots continued to flank the door; Optimus trusted them to fall in behind him and their guest. He couldn't bring himself to think of this creature as his prisoner. It just went too much against the grain. He saw what had obviously already won over Jazz, Ironhide and Prowl. Judging by their demeanors, he thought perhaps the other two 'Bots in their little party were similarly inclined. _I'd be curious to find out what Ratchet thinks of this,_ passed his processor. Starrunner obediently followed him as he walked between the 'Bots at the door; he tried to start a better conversation. "Prowl tells me that you mentioned Skyfire. Have you met him?" Realizing that was another yes or no question and unlikely to get the youngster talking, he continued, "Tell me what you've heard about him." He stopped in the hallway and waited for Starrunner to draw abreast of him.

The Seeker was smiling openly now and seemed to be looking at Jazz. Optimus caught part of what Jazz was saying and deduced it was something to the effect of 'you do right by us, we'll do right by you.' Starrunner dimmed his optics once as if in acknowledgment. As he stepped into the more diffuse light of the hallway, Optimus remembered what they'd said about Starrunner's condition upon arrival and thought Ratchet had done more than just get him functional. It looked like Ratchet had even made repairs to Starrunner's wings; oddly enough, the worst scarring was where the Decepticon insignia had been, he could make out just enough of it to recognize it. Then he noticed the small trail of coolant from where Starrunner had been standing.

Mildly concerned, Optimus let Starrunner finish answering his question, saying he had never met Skyfire. "We'll have to remedy that," he said absently, then with purpose, "you seem to have quite a bit in common. The first time Skyfire met Ratchet, he was leaking coolant too." Optimus turned and saw Ratchet stop and turn back toward them in the hallway.

"I hadn't thought of it that way, Prime, but you're right - they were both pretty slagged when I met 'em," Ratchet followed Optimus' gaze as he looked back at Starrunner and down to the deckplates. "Leakin' more 'n a little coolant," his tone hardened - he had work to do: "Primus fraggit! Sparklet, what've you done to yourself?" Ratchet returned to them, obviously intending to assess the damage where Starrunner stood. Optimus stepped aside and motioned for Prowl and Jazz to stay where they were.

Rarely having been in the repair bay while Ratchet worked on someone other than himself, Optimus found the medic's running commentary reassuring. It was often the first thing he registered when he was recovering from battle damage.

-X-X-X-

Ratchet heard his name and stopped, turning to participate in the conversation. "I hadn't thought of it that way, Prime, but you're right: they were both pretty slagged when I met them, leaking more than a little coolant." Speaking of being slagged, the youngster was leaking again! He immediately marched back to attend the injury. His off-duty tone left him, "Primus fraggit! Sparklet, what have you done to yourself?" As he knelt to see to his patient's damage, Ratchet didn't pause to let Starrunner attempt to answer, "I specifically told you that the new parts needed a few days for your internal repair system to solidify them. You are perfectly capable of clearing out debris - even breaking up rock and straightening out bulkheads - without having to undo my work!" Without hesitation he took out a small tool and deftly found the source of the leak and sealed it. Sensitive fingers detected damage to the plating in the area. Prowl was saying something to Wheeljack. He turned his tirade on the engineer. "And 'Jack, aren't you supposed to be supervising him?" He knew Wheeljack well enough to not have to see his friend to know he was contrite. Running routine system-level scans as he evaluated the dented plating, he continued, "You told me there was easily a month's worth of work to be done, standing up, back here, to let him heal." The only immediate problem, that ruptured coolant line, was resolved but his scans showed precisely why the minor denting had caused the break despite two days for self-repair: his patient's systems were all running on power-save mode. "Your internal repair system can't help you when it's in power-save mode." He stood up to look Starrunner in the optics, "Why in the Pit is your energon level so low?" This time, he did want an answer, but not from the youngster. He turned to look accusingly at the XO, "Prowl?"

-X-X-X-

As soon as Ratchet's tone changed, Prowl noticed the fluid on the floor and ran the scenarios for how it got there. Going to his knees when he saw Prime must have opened one of the repairs in Starrunner's leg. Ratchet had not arrived until after his patient returned to his feet and did not know about that formal display.

"Wheeljack," Prowl said calmly around the transformers between them, "have Sideswipe send the cleaning crew back here. We will meet you in the galley shortly."

Wheeljack agreed and turned to go, then paused when Ratchet chided him. Realizing no reply was necessary, he left.

Ratchet had reached an erroneous conclusion about the cause of the leak. Prowl was about to explain what happened when the medic went past the actual event to a deeper root cause. "Why in the Pit is your energon level so low? Prowl?"

Prowl met the piercing blue optics over the black shoulder. He did not process the information for any noticeable amount of time to conclude, "Starrunner has not been taking in energon." It was not a question. Starrunner turned his head to Prowl, red optics bright in a surprised face. Prowl focused his attention on the Decepticon, "If you forgot the way to the galley, Wheeljack or Jazz would have happily reminded you, would you but ask; I am confident your memory of the terms of your confinement is clear. Why have you not been taking in fuel?" A scenario with an extremely low probability struck him as credible despite the odds: "If someone denied you access to the dispenser, or the common room itself, such action was unauthorized and will be remedied."

"No, Prowl, Sir, no one stopped me. I wanted to make as much progress here as possible."

Prowl readied a reply. Ratchet beat him to it. "Workin' yourself into stasis won't endear you to anyone, smart aft. And leavin' yourself open to re-injury is no damn way to thank us." Prowl thought Ratchet's expression gave lie to his words: the medic obviously found the Decepticon's illogical behavior understandable.

Jazz walked past the Seeker on the other side, away from Prowl. As normal, when he moved, all optics turned to the saboteur. "Ya never claimed to have the fastest processor," he said with a smile that softened the sting of his comment, "but we had more purpose in all comin' down here than makin' small talk and debatin' the merits o' your theories on fuel consumption." He set a hand on the youngster's shoulder familiarly. "Prime and Prowl have a plan ta try ta use Laserbeak to dissuade yer wing-mates from comin' ta get ya."

Prowl hoped he did not know what was coming. Rather than wait and see, he tried to preclude Jazz from sharing his opinion of their plan with the main actor in it, knowing Jazz had more influence on Starrunner than anyone. "Based on your account, the other Decepticons last knew your whereabouts on the ground in Mongolia. When Laserbeak reports back-"

Jazz turned his attention briefly to Prowl as he cut him off: "We'd rather they not come lookin' for ya." He brightened his visor minutely and inclined his head purposely before turning back to Starrunner. Prowl took it as his 'trust me' signal. "What do you think would most likely prevent that?"

Prowl had not thought of asking his opinion. By the look of Prime, neither had he. Prowl walked down the hall to stand nearer his commander so he could more easily watch Jazz at work. Starrunner answered him. Prowl thought there was a trace of hero-worship in his vocalization: "Sir? I think we have to assume Laserbeak knows everything that happened about and to me from the moment Bluestreak reported finding me until you took me from the repair bay the next day." Jazz's comment on his processor speed notwithstanding, Prowl agreed with his assessment. He continued, still addressing only Jazz despite the other three in his immediate vicinity, "If their only concern were preventing you from getting the information in my databanks, you could let anyone imply that Ratchet had taken it all by force." Was he heading for the same answer they had reached? "Jazz-sir, I don't think that will be their only concern, or even their main concern." His vocalization grew more confident as his processor worked. "Soundwave will want my spark casing." Prowl exchanged a look with Prime. The expression on the kid's faceplates said he had just come around to the biggest problem with trying to change factions. He was looking earnestly at Jazz's visor, casting brief glances to the others whose optics were more accessible. Grimly, he repeated the conclusion Prowl had guided Prime to earlier: "They have to believe you deactivated me." Ratchet looked likely to say something, so Starrunner spoke to him, "I may be the only thing Soundwave and Starscream ever agree on. Ratchet, I'm sorry."

That last comment and the intensity with which it was delivered struck each of them. Ratchet stiffened. "I don't see what for. And I don't see a problem with any o' that. You're not goin' anywhere for a while anyway. If you continue as you have been - and learn to exercise the liberties we give you like takin' energon when you damn well should! - I know plenty o' ways to change your look." Prowl appreciated their CMO: his complicity in their plan had been Prowl's one worry.

Jazz shook his head, smile steady but contemplative. He released the black shoulder and motioned for Starrunner and Ratchet to come with him as he walked toward Prime and Prowl. "I see I'm outnumbered on this," he said in a tone that would have been a growl coming from anyone else. Even uneasy and displeased, his voice was musical. "Let's go on ta the common room an' get some energon before Red Alert comes in play." Satisfied with the proceedings, Prime started into the inhabited regions of the Ark, leading the way since his bulk took up most of the hallway at this level. Jazz shook his head again, stopping to meet Prowl's optics and allow Starrunner and Ratchet to pass them and continue to follow Prime. "I still don't like it. Grimlock's heavy-handed and Red Alert's crazier'n a Seeke-" he stopped himself in the middle of a common Seeker-slur. Prowl much doubted that present company would not use it himself, once he heard it, let alone hold it against his idol: he had not had anything good to say about any of his fellow Decepticon jets. Jazz was too much of a light touch to let himself say 'crazier than a Seeker solo' in Starrunner's hearing. "Red Alert's crazy," Jazz amended.

Prowl spared his friend his best smile. "Red Alert is sufficiently predictable," he said, and they fell in as rear-guard for their party.

-X-X-X-

Normally mid-afternoon saw the Ark common room empty. As expected, it housed only Wheeljack nursing a serving of sustenance-grade energon when the four officers arrived with their charge.

"Bumblebee is on his way down to clean up the coolant and remove some of the loose rock. I sent Hound and Trailbreaker out to procure materials we need to get more light and air into the new space Starrunner's opening up," Wheeljack told Prime as he sat down next to him.

Starrunner looked aghast. Standing near him as Ratchet doled out the same energon into cubes for them all at the dispenser, Jazz noticed his expression and smirked. "When Wheeljack says 'procure', Starrunner, he means 'purchase' not 'pilfer'. We participate honestly in the local economy as much as possible." Looking toward Wheeljack and Prime, he asked, "Did ya send one o' the ambassadors with 'em this time, 'Jack?"

Prime laughed: the last time Wheeljack needed supplies he'd forgotten to add the human touch and sent only Huffer and Beachcomber. That particular procurement was a very long time coming. Wheeljack's headfins flashed merrily as he replied, "Sparkplug said he needed some fresh air."

Handing the youngster a cube, Ratchet said, "That's just something the humans say when they get tired of being in one place. Most o' the base has pretty high air quality; don't know how it compares to what you're used to. Now, don't down that all at one gulp: you'll shock your system."

-X-X-X-

"Yes, Ratchet." Automatically accepting the container, Starrunner tried to take it all in: Lord Prime sitting on a bench beside the working Cybertronian whose main responsibility was managing the facility; Number Four explaining that Cybertronians could interact honestly with the indigenous beings without violence or aggression; Prowl waiting without rancor with a lower-ranking individual and a prisoner; and Ratchet handing him more energon than he'd ever been allowed at one fueling before. He held the container carefully and tried to observe everything. Lord Prime spoke fondly of Sparkplug-the-human with Wheeljack; they commented familiarly on one of Sparkplug's creations. Ratchet handed cubes identical to his to Number Four and Prowl, then took two himself. Starrunner timidly did as the others did: when it became clear they all intended to sit with Lord Prime and Wheeljack, he went with them and hesitantly sat at the end of the bench beside Number Four and across from Wheeljack. Wheeljack and Ratchet flanked Lord Prime on that side of the table; Prowl sat across from the medic on Number Four's other side. Ratchet handed one of his two servings to Lord Prime, who accepted it with a profession of gratitude.

Starrunner intended to wait until all of the others were finished with their fuel. Number Four noticed. He leaned closer to Starrunner and commented conspiratorially, "No one expects ya ta wait on him ta fuel up. If we're still readin' low after one round, we'll get another from the dispenser." He straightened back up and sipped from his own cube to demonstrate. Starrunner tried to understand the implication of taking energon with these Cybertronians.

Ratchet piped up, "Turn your internal alarms back on, smart aft, and leave 'em on. They're set just fine to remind you to take care o' yourself. Take in energon at least until they switch off on their own."

All optics on him, Starrunner felt painfully self-conscious. Lord Prime's optics twinkled over his battle mask, but he addressed Number Four and Ratchet with an admonition, "Leave him be. He can take in fuel as he chooses."

Ratchet seemed to be looking Lord Prime directly in the face as he retorted, "His choices would've left him in stasis in that dark room, Prime, and got him back in my repair bay for his own fraggin' stupidity."

"Everyone learns differently, Ratchet," Lord Prime continued good-humoredly, "Starrunner's way may be purely experiential."

"I'll 'experiential' him if he keeps on toward undoing all the work we did on him." Ratchet's vocalization sounded purely argumentative to Starrunner's audios. He waited for Lord Prime or Prowl to discipline the insubordinate medic.

It didn't happen. Ratchet and Lord Prime continued to banter and the topic of their talk migrated from the things Ratchet and Swoop did to get him in his current state to Swoop's progress as a medic-in-training, to training the younger sparks in general, to the number of sparks still in long-term stasis from the crash... Prowl and Wheeljack added their input seemingly at will and Number Four smiled and provided commentary at a low decibel level for Starrunner whenever he thought something might not make sense in a Decepticon reference frame. Starrunner was grateful but felt completely out of place. He finally sipped at his energon when Prowl stood up to refill his own cube and offered to do the same for anyone else.

During the lull in the conversation created by Prowl's movement, Starrunner asked Number Four questions he should have voiced days ago. "Jazz-sir, how much energon am I allowed? And how long am I to wait between rations?" He spoke at the same low volume Number Four used for his explanations.

Obviously, everyone at the table heard him. Number Four smiled patiently. Lord Prime himself chose to answer, "I suppose you could say we work on the honor system here. As Ratchet said, leave your alarms energized and take in at least enough to maintain healthful levels. Beyond that, it's up to you to keep yourself functional. Recovering from extensive damage will probably require you to take in smaller amounts more often to avoid shocking your systems with too much." Number Four clamped a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

"If you need guidance, Sparklet, I can run some detailed scans and develop a plan for you, optimize your recovery and give you a schedule to fuel by until you figure out how to regulate your own intake," offered Ratchet.

Prowl came to stand near the end of the bench where he had been sitting. "If you will excuse me, Optimus, I must answer a few queries before my contacts in the Capitol leave their offices for the day." At Lord Prime's affirmative, Prowl offered a general adieu to them all and left, energon cube in hand.

Starrunner shyly met Lord Prime's optics across the table. "I understand Lor- Optimus Prime, Sir." Then to Ratchet he said, "Thank you, Ratchet, I will take you up on that offer." He cycled air slowly, mindful that the alarms would still be active if he energized them at this point.

Someone greeted Prowl in the hallway. Starrunner made out enough of the drawled salutation to think it was Red One - _Ironside_, he thought Ratchet had named that one - but couldn't sort out more than "G'd Afternoon!" and "High grade...?" Apparently Prowl and the newcomer were having a private conversation.

Number Four released his shoulder and laughed unaccountably as he turned back toward the table. Starrunner felt obligated to offer some explanation of what he perceived as a lack in his skill set. "I have never had access to unlimited energon before. We had to take in all the fuel we could get when we could get it. My friend Cobweb and I tried to accumulate some reserve but the Casseticons found it and took it away from us."

Lord Prime flashed one optic minutely at Jazz before addressing Starrunner. "I can't say I'd describe our energon supply as 'unlimited'," he began, "but we haven't had a need to ration it since coming to Earth. Take what you need. Try not to waste it but don't hoard it." He sounded amused, as if he were giving advice instead of direction.

"Yes, Optimus Prime Sir, I will not." He wondered that the gathering seemed to find his reply amusing. Their laughter did not have the same quality as when Thundercracker and Skywarp laughed at something he said. The tone was different; their body language was completely different, relaxed and open with no hint of either aggression or cruelty.

Starrunner's identification of Prowl's acquaintance in the corridor proved correct: Red One walked confidently into the galley, smiling wryly. Lord Prime greeted him, "Ironhide, glad you could join us! Are Red Alert and Grimlock on their way?" Starrunner noted the name, _Ironhide not Ironside._

Now at the dispenser, Ironhide responded, "Optimus, I swear Red makes less sense every time I talk to 'im." He downed his first helping in a shot, refilled the container and turned back to walk slowly in their direction. He had a comfortable gait that indicated great personal power to Starrunner, despite the feeling that this was no officer, no Cybertronian of rank. Lord Prime clearly held great respect for him. The concept mystified Starrunner. He continued as he took the position vacated by Prowl, "I figure we've got maybe a breem or two o' peace 'fore he notices there's a 'Con in the galley and high-tails it down here in a full-on panic. You really need to check him out again, Ratch'."

Lord Prime chuckled, nodding as he finished his serving. The medic answered Ironhide, "So I'm told. Red's always been a little fragged."

Ironhide agreed, "Optimus has him set up for a melt-down. He doesn't stand a chance." Jazz and Wheeljack laughed at that, too. Lord Prime looked suspiciously like he'd been caught playing a prank, which notion did not fit within Starrunner's concept of him. He sipped more of his energon to cover his confusion. Lord Prime stood up to refill his own container, offering just as Prowl had to do the same for anyone else while he was up. Starrunner was still trying to process their comments about Red Alert. _What is wrong with this Red Alert character? Why would finding an escorted prisoner in the galley cause him a 'melt-down'? What did Ironhide mean by that?_ Most importantly, _Why do they tolerate such a creature in their ranks?_ Surely such instability indicated a flawed processor to be replaced or a flawed spark to be extinguished.

"It had to be done," the commander was saying in the same conversational tone he'd used most of the day, "it will provide real footage to feed Laserbeak and get Red Alert in Ratchet's reach without me having to order him to it."

"Why are you so reluctant to order him, Prime?" Ratchet asked. "We all know damn well he needs periodic attention, Red Alert himself included, yet you let him avoid me until he gets so twitchy he's a danger. The time between is shorter every fraggin' time."

Starrunner thought there was an edge to Lord Prime's vocalization when he answered, resuming his seat, "I allow it because I continue to hope that he will face this issue and accept responsibility for his own needs. If I order him to see you regularly, I remove the impetus for him to mature."

"If he keeps on as he has been his processor will eventually fragment beyond my ability to repair it. And that's if it happens quietly. What if it happens in a crisis, Prime?"

"That is a risk I believe we have to take, Ratchet, for the sake of providing him the chance to develop to his full potential." Starrunner found Lord Prime meeting his optics even though the commander was clearly still addressing Ratchet. He did not think to look away. "It is nothing compared to the other risks we run every day. The benefit is preservation of his freedom to choose his own way and his chance to continue to become a better mech." Starrunner felt exposed, as if Lord Prime were looking into him.

-X-X-X-

The evaluation of the sparklet was proceeding very well. Optimus was satisfied to note that the red optics didn't flicker immediately away from his as he made a comment on Red Alert that could just as easily be applied to Starrunner. He was adapting quickly, shifting to match their manner. Optimus would not have thought it possible, though now it was clear that such flexibility fit perfectly with all he'd been told about the newcomer. The evening following Starrunner's arrival, Prowl had given him a full account that began with Bluestreak's encounter and ended with their guest's installment in the recesses of the Ark. As Ironhide had implied, it was not easy for him to sort out and internalize the most important thing about Jazz's informant from Prowl's version: this was clearly not a Decepticon at spark.

"But that's enough about Red Alert. I'm sure you'll meet him soon enough, Starrunner," Optimus held Starrunner's attention. "We need to know about you. I can see you are adaptable, capable of learning quickly and behaving reasonably. Your reaction when you first saw me reeked of Shockwave. Is he your creator? Where did he get your spark? How long have you been on Earth? Explain to me," here he leaned forward on his elbows on the table, careful not to bring his bulk to bear menacingly, trying to convey an earnest interest, "very clearly explain to me how you came to be where you are."

Starrunner stopped cycling his cooling system while Optimus was speaking. Optimus noted that he did not draw away. "Yes Lord- Optimus Prime, Sir, Shockwave is my creator," he began, "and he... he punished me severely when I asked about my origin. I- Sir, I do not know where he obtained my spark." He paused and seemed to notice that all of the Autobots at the table were looking at him. Jazz made a small sound that Optimus was sure only Starrunner could hear, besides himself, and Starrunner seemed to take it as encouragement. "Prime-Sir, we-"

It was at that moment that Red Alert made his appearance.

"Quiet!" Red Alert ordered, blaster leveled at the Decepticon. Starrunner froze mid-sentence. "You are all under arrest," Red Alert continued, giving a slight motion of his head to indicate all gathered, optics never leaving Starrunner, "for fraternizing with the enemy pending investigation for treason to the Autobot cause."

Several things happened at once. Ironhide grumbled, giving Optimus a glare as he turned to face Red Alert. Ratchet activated all his active scans, focused on Red Alert's processors. Optimus congratulated himself on a plan well-begun. Wheeljack stood up, saying, "Let me get you some energon Red, and you can join us." Starrunner turned smoothly from the table to face Red Alert. Jazz stood up and placed himself squarely in the line of fire before his informant, hands out peacefully, smile reassuring.

Just as Ratchet guessed Red's intent based on his readings, Starrunner moved, shocking everyone but Red Alert. "Do not!" he exclaimed, freeing himself from the table, standing up, and somehow shoving Jazz aside all in one motion as Red Alert fired.

The blast caught him in the canopy. Since his core was no larger than Jazz's, the shot aimed for Jazz's center-of-mass hit him squarely. Smoking from the wound, he did not pause to glance down but launched himself at Red Alert while Ratchet cursed darkly and the others recalibrated. They struggled. Red Alert was bigger and his mental instability made him less predictable, but Starrunner was determined and focused every motion on efficiently subduing him.

Wheeljack offered to help Jazz up but it was unnecessary: Jazz already had his own blaster on Red Alert. Ironhide stood up, still glaring as he replaced his hand with his cannon and brought it to bear on the struggling pair. Optimus bellowed, "Enough!" Starrunner finished pinning Red Alert to the floor on his face, both arms twisted behind him, blaster under one knee. Optimus continued, "Stand down, Red Alert. Starrunner, step away from him. Ratchet, see to Starrunner." He stood up slowly as everyone moved, holding Red Alert's panicked optics with his own, "I hate to do this, Red Alert, but you are going to be confined to the brig this time-"

Red Alert jumped up as Starrunner released him, panting to Prime indignantly, "You are all-"

Optimus overrode him by sheer volume, stepping over the table without difficulty as he continued, "and Ratchet will see to you there."

Ratchet guided a smoking, leaking Starrunner to sit on another bench.

Jazz took Red Alert's behavior personally. He stepped into the other's personal space, blaster angled up to the larger 'Bot's chest. He was not smiling: his expression was cold, one that none of the Autobots present had seen him use before. "You meant to fire on me, Red, me. That is so wrong that I don't have the words for ya." He stepped closer still, blaster scraping the bottom edge of Red Alert's chestplate. "That Decepticon is the only reason I'm still standin' here, Red. Do you get that?" When Red Alert did not reply he did not find it acceptable. Jazz repeated the question at a volume that surpassed what Prime had used, "DO YOU GET THAT?"

Wheeljack laughed nervously, circling to get between Red Alert and the door. Optimus closed the distance to Red Alert and set one large blue hand on Red Alert's shoulder and the other on Jazz's. "That is enough, Jazz," he said at his normal volume, "I'm not convinced Red Alert 'gets' any of this right now." He firmly separated them, Red Alert motionless as Jazz stepped lightly out from under Prime's grasp and away from both of them.

Ironhide stepped around Jazz's other side and grasped Red Alert's upper arm, cannon leveled at his abdomen. "I'll take 'im on down ta the brig, Optimus. Wheeljack, grab his blaster and come with. Red Alert," Ironhide shook him slightly by the grip on his arm. Red Alert did not move, so Ironhide shook him again, "Pay attention, Red!" Red Alert seemed to snap into awareness and made optic contact with Ironhide. "Don't give me trouble. You have got to do better about keepin' care o' yerself," he kept talking as he started the now-cooperative Red Alert moving out the door, past Wheeljack and on down the hall.

Optimus bowed his head. Softly, he asked no one in particular, "His processor locked up again just now, didn't it?" He felt defeated and wondered if Red Alert would ever understand how dangerous he became when he let his connection to his basic sensors rule him. Optimus realized he'd misjudged the degree to which Red Alert was fragmented.

Ratchet took charge of the room. "At least this time he didn't alarm the whole Ark. I think just Jazz and Ironhide were really affected by him." Ratchet was doing first aid on the damage to Starrunner's torso. He glanced up at Jazz as his nimble fingers continued the work, "Are you all right, Jazz? Do you need me to reset anything? I know Red Alert was focused on you when he sent the alarm signal."

Jazz laughed shakily, trying to regain his humor as he subspaced his blaster. "Thanks, Doc, but I'm okay. Nothin' a little high grade and some tunes won't fix." He noticed what Ratchet was actually doing. "Lemme help ya get him to medical."

-X-X-X-

Starrunner was in shock. The cozy picture he'd had of Autobots getting along all the time and being uniformly reasonable, accepting Cybertronians was cracked by this Red Alert character. He released Red Alert as Lord Prime ordered and staggered a bit back watching Lord Prime stand, his focus fully on the malfunctioning mechanism. Number Four drew an energy weapon fluidly from subspace. Lord Prime stepped over the table as he spoke, "I hate to do this, Red Alert, but you are going to be confined to the brig this time and Ratchet will see to you there." He cleared the table and benches easily without disturbing any of the half-finished containers of fuel in the process.

Red Alert tried to interrupt. Number Four flowed over to him, blaster menacing and expression determined. It was the look Starrunner had burned in his memory, the look of absolute concentration and deadly intent that Number Four wore every time Starrunner saw him in the Nemesis. "You meant to fire on me, Red, me. That is so wrong that I don't have the words for you." He indicated Starrunner with a movement of his head, optics never leaving Red Alert. "That Decepticon is the only reason I'm still standing here, Red. Do you get that?" Red Alert did not act like he was hearing; Jazz repeated the question at a volume that surprised Starrunner.

Ratchet came to Starrunner's side and gently helped him sit on another bench. Starrunner felt his body weakening and consciously shut unnecessary systems completely down. He steeled himself to remain on-line in case Red Alert threatened anyone else. _How could they tolerate such a creature in their ranks?_

Ratchet worked on Starrunner's broken lines, sealing the energon leak that was pooling fluid in his canopy as electricity crackled dangerously through the area. Wheeljack laughed awkwardly as he walked behind Red Alert to block the door. Optimus closed the distance to Number Four and separated him from Red Alert, saying he doubted Red Alert's cognizance. Red Alert was motionless; Number Four easily danced away from them.

Ironhide took the broken Cybertronian in hand and escorted him from the room with Wheeljack in attendance.

Lord Prime's body language screamed failure and defeat as he said, "His processor locked up again just now, didn't it?" Starrunner could not reconcile the image to what he knew about the Autobot leader. Lord Megatron knew no failure, admitted no defeat! Master Shockwave would scoff if he observed this.

The medic answered calmly as he worked on Starrunner, "At least this time he didn't alarm the whole Ark. I think only Jazz and Ironhide were affected." Without pausing in his work, he addressed Number Four, "Are you all right, Jazz? Do you need me to reset anything? Red Alert was focused on you when he sent the alarm signal."

Starrunner wanted to ask _What alarm signal?_ but it was too hard to make his vocalizer work just then.

Number Four laughed and subspaced the weapon. "Thanks, Doc, but I'm okay. Nothing a little high grade and some tunes won't fix." He looked at Starrunner and seemed concerned. "Let me help you get him to medical."

Starrunner wanted to wave him away and say something dismissive of the injury, but he just did not have the energy to spare.

He passed into stasis.

-X-X-X-_Hours pass._-X-X-X-

An alarm was going off. It was an unfamiliar alarm. Starrunner wondered how many different alarm codes the Nemesis used. He was about to radio Cobweb to ask if he knew what the drill was, this time, when he realized something was definitely wrong: he had no transceiver! His helmet felt to be intact but he could not access his radio to transmit nor scan. He detected the empty connectors in his head and marveled that someone had stolen his transceiver while he recharged. One of those Casseticons was going to get what was coming to him today, whether he found out which one parted him from his transceiver or not! This was just too personal a violation to take.

The alarm continued. Someone nearby swore in a human language. Starrunner powered on his optics and sat up in surprise: he remembered Ratchet and the Ark and that Cobweb wasn't in range if he could use his radio! He sprang off the repair table and ran for the med bay entrance as if he knew where he should go. Ratchet stopped him: "Fraggit Sparklet! Stand down!"

Ratchet had Red Alert hooked up to a variety of equipment. Starrunner noted it, remembering what Lord Prime said about Ratchet treating Red Alert in the brig. Rather than pry into that, he asked, "Ratchet-Sir, what means this alarm?"

Ratchet ignored the honorific for once. "That's the general alarm. Wait a tick and the 'Bot on comm will come on and tell us what we're in for." Ratchet worked efficiently to stabilize Red Alert and pause the processes. The alarm cut out. To the off-line mech he said, "You just stay here, slagger, and I'll get back to you when I can."

A voice Starrunner did not recognize came over the all-call: _Three jets and all the Constructicons are converging on us, they will arrive within one breem. Dinobots to the main entrance immediately. Repeat: Dinobots to the main entrance; three Seekers and team Devastator en route, ETA five minutes. Sideswipe out._

Swoop squawked and emerged from the back of the bay. Starrunner hadn't even realized he was back there. "Me Swoop go now, Ratchet!" he called to his mentor as he rushed to the exit.

Starrunner didn't hesitate. "I am with you, Swoop!" he said and followed the Dinobot out of the room.

They were within sight of the other Dinobots and the exit when Starrunner realized Ratchet was behind them.

-X-X-X-

The more Starscream thought about all the trouble Shockwave's creations had caused in their short time on Earth, the more he hated Megatron's lieutenant on Cybertron. -:-When I get my hands on that glitch,-:- he sent to his Trine mates over their encrypted radio, -:-I swear to Primus I will crush his spark casing myself!-:- He meant Shockwave and his recent creations, and Soundwave and the Casseticons, and his audience could pick any or all for all he cared. He was tired of Soundwave thinking that just because he was Megatron's current favorite he could order things in their garrison as he wanted. He was tired of the Casseticons (and therefore Soundwave) knowing all his business. He was tired of hearing Shockwave speak through his creations with "Lord Megatron" and the ubiquitous "Sir" that just begged for a beating.

Skywarp answered him: -:-Screamer, you're just slagged off 'cause Soundwave ran you through the Pit over it.-:-

Thundercracker teased: -:-Ya! The 'Waves are Megatron's faves this cycle.-:- He cackled and did a barrel-roll, letting his turbulence wash over his commander playfully. -:-Shockwave can do no wrong and we can do no right but you'll win him back. At least we get some Autobot action this time, Screamer, and right on their doorstep!-:- He rolled back into their formation smoothly. -:-No fraggin' fleshies, no 'strategic retreat'!-:-

Skywarp made to bump Thundercracker's wingtip then teleported a meter away and back into his position. -:-It's embarrassing every time! I had that Sideswipe right where I wanted him last time, too!-:- He practiced a little revisionist history, or misremembered which battle with the red Lamborghini was the last one. Starscream let it slide.

Thundercracker didn't. -:-Ya, I guess you did, 'Warp, since he ended up draggin' me down with that brother o' his!-:- He was still a little bitter about stalling out and being rescued by the very mech they were seeking. It wasn't like the crash would have killed him: the same dunking only very temporarily grounded Skywarp. At least Skywarp had significant damage to show for his humiliation; Thundercracker only had a little yellow paint because Starrunner forced Sunstreaker to focus on hanging on rather than pummeling him.

Skywarp harrumphed and bounced ahead of Thundercracker to create a wake to tweak his flight and warped right back into proper position flanking Starscream.

-:-Almost there. Look sharp!-:- the air commander said with anticipation. They could see the dust being kicked up by the approaching Constructicons. Moonlight reflected off purple and green metal. -:-We'll see how well they do against Devastator in the dark,-:- he said with a laugh as he led the descent on the Ark.

-X-X-X-

Sunstreaker was not about to let the Dinos have all the fun. When his brother sounded the alarm, he first thought maybe the twelve-hour stint on console was wearing thin: it had to be a prank. But the tone of Sideswipe's voice and the precision of his words truly got Sunstreaker's attention and he paused his video game to run out of their room and down to the entrance. The Dinobots were already out there, harassing Devastator while an F-15 took pot-shots at them from the air. Swoop was engaged with the other two. In infrared, the three F-15 Seekers looked identical. Sunstreaker transformed as he ran and raced up a nearby mountain to gain altitude to launch himself at the Decepticons fighting Swoop. They saw him coming this time, and he found himself on the wrong end of someone's cannon as he transformed. Bracing himself for the blasts, he didn't realize the jet had taken aim on his paraglider. He plummeted when the glider was hit. Seeker Two disappeared and reappeared closer to Swoop and Seeker Three. That action defined Skywarp. A shape he didn't recognize hurtled toward him at an angle from the ground. He took aim but did not fire.

"I can catch you, Sir!" the strange mech said, and Sunstreaker recognized the Decepticon who'd been reduced to spare parts in the repair bay, the one Swoop had carried in a few nights before. Sunstreaker altered his aim to fire on Seeker Three who was now bearing down on the winged mech.

Small hands caught him up under his arms. "Thanks," Sunstreaker said suspiciously as he tried a blast in Thundercracker's (or was that Starscream's?) direction since Skywarp was out of range.

"Which one do you want, Sir?" the stranger asked as he carried Sunstreaker higher.

"Think we can catch that fragger, Skywarp?" Sunstreaker replied, cursing as Skywarp teleported into and then back out of range before he could get off another volley.

"Yes Sir. In a tick I'll have his pattern and be able to drop you on him."

-X-X-X-

"The Dinobots cannot stand against Devastator," Prowl declared as he and Optimus assessed the on-going battle from the comm center. "He is toying with them."

"It's not as if we don't know what they're here for." Prime contemplated the image of Laserbeak in stasis in the brig.

-X-X-X-

-:-Screamer, I see Starrunner! They let him outside!-:- Thundercracker shouted over the radio.

-:-How fortunate! Where is our wayward brother?-:- Starscream had not imagined the Autobots would just let Starrunner go! Instead of a siege, they could actively hunt! It was a beautiful night for it.

-:-He's playin' jet-pack for the yellow one! Traitor's helpin' him stalk me!-:- Skywarp sounded particularly angry.

-:-Did we expect any less from him, Skywarp? As long as he draws energon he will betray us.-:- Starscream was distracted from his oft-rehearsed but never delivered speech about Shockwave and his general failure as a Decepticon. He watched with glee as targets worth Devastator's time finally came out of the Ark: the tactician, followed by the Prime himself. His moment to relish the sound of breaking glass as the Autobot Prowl smashed into the side of a mountain, no match for one swing of Devastator's huge fist, was curtailed when a flash of moonlight on red lacquer caught his attention too late. Sideswipe latched onto him. He screamed and tried to shake his assailant. Sideswipe whooped. Starscream flew close to Devastator hoping the gestalt would notice his plight and pull the fighter off him. He was out of luck at the moment: Omega Supreme had engaged Devastator and distracted him from even landing one solid blow on the Autobot commander let alone paying any attention to Starscream. The Dinobots were merely a nuisance to the two huge combatants now. Starscream took a few more blows from Sideswipe, then raked him off his fuselage by scraping along the Guardian robot's back. As soon as he was relieved of that burden, he caught sight of just the mech he'd hoped to see. The Traitor was lurking, airborne but in root-mode, watching Sunstreaker wrestle Skywarp. Starscream headed for Starrunner, ignoring Skywarp's curses and shouts for help. He transformed into root-mode to unleash his full fury on the turncoat. "I'll make you regret the day you were sparked!" he screeched. Starrunner turned to look at him and Starscream was struck with how much this mech reminded him of himself. "You're a waste of my spare parts!" _And Shockwave will pay dearly for that waste!_ he thought.

Starrunner looked frightened. Starscream enjoyed the power to cause that, lazily bringing his null-rays to bear, as if he had all the time in the universe. Starrunner took off straight up. Starscream swore and followed him. Starrunner cut the power to his thrusters and started to fall. Starscream didn't have enough time to react and took the full impact of a body three-fourths his mass hitting his upper torso, feet-first. Starrunner kicked off of him and fired the thrusters in his feet at the same instant, singeing Starscream's now-cracked canopy and paint, literally adding insult to injury. Starscream swore again.

Hands covered his optics astroseconds after his audio receptors registered the sound of a jet-pack, too close. "Guess who?" someone - had to be that Pit-blasted Sideswipe! - asked with mock sweetness before yanking his head back hard and bending him backwards against a knee in his back. A pile-driver pounded him rhythmically, crushing part of his fuselage.

Starscream swore again and fired off a blast of his null-ray convulsively.

Skywarp screamed: it hit him a glancing blow. He was relatively unaffected by the blast and elated to feel lighter by the weight of one Lamborghini. Screamer had dislodged Sunstreaker! Skywarp bounced a bit away from the battle to reassess and watch his attacker drop to his death.

-X-X-X-

Ratchet was working feverishly to save Prowl. Devastator seemed to have focused all his power on the Datsun, first throwing him into the side of the mountain, then blasting away at him despite the onslaught of four Dinobots, Prime, Ironhide and Jazz until Omega Supreme tackled him. "What in the Pit did you do to get his attention?" Ratchet asked as he finished sealing the leaks that threatened to drown Prowl's processors in energon. He began crimping broken coolant lines. He heard Starscream cackle and looked up just in time to see Sideswipe rocket away from the slagger. Sideswipe was trying to save his falling brother. It took only a processor cycle for Ratchet to compute that Sideswipe was too far away to catch him up. He froze, thinking if they lost one Twin they'd surely lose the other.

An unfamiliar shape darted in from the side and caught Sunstreaker with a clash of metal on metal. Damaged, but obviously functional, Starrunner slowed his flight to adjust his hold on Sunstreaker.

Ratchet heard Sunstreaker curse and smiled with relief, turning back to the grim case in front of him. "Too bad you won't remember any of this," he said to Prowl although the XO was off-line from his injuries, "you would've enjoyed tweaking Sunny about that in your own flat way. Sparklet's a strong flyer, even in root-mode."

-X-X-X-

Cursing Seekers everywhere to the deepest level of the Pit, Sideswipe roughly cast Starscream away and went full-throttle on his jet pack to try to catch Sunstreaker. Although his processor told him there was no trajectory that would allow him to cross Sunny's path before he hit the ground, Sideswipe kept the throttle open and plunged toward his brother.

That mistake of technology was cackling. Sideswipe didn't have time to spare to shut him up. The mech who'd been under surveillance, working in the depths of the Ark when Sideswipe came on duty at noon, flew under Sunstreaker and caught him. Sunny was okay! He was cursing the damage done by the mid-air save, but Sunny was okay. _Starscream's gonna pay!_ Sideswipe thought as he turned to refocus on the now silent Decepticon.

Starscream seemed to have optics only for Sunstreaker as Sideswipe reversed course. He didn't notice Sideswipe taking a bead on him. Starscream raised his arm-mounted weapons as Sideswipe launched a missile. Starscream got off a pair of blasts from his null-rays before the missile hit him, square in the canopy. Sideswipe could hear Sunstreaker yelling, so he knew Starscream missed. The Decepticon went reeling from the missile blast, internals smoking. He smashed into the back of Omega Supreme's head and fell to the ground. Omega kept thrashing Devastator.

Sideswipe noted an unfamiliar tone in his brother's expletives: Sunny was scared! Sideswipe looked just in time to see that Sunstreaker was again plummeting to the ground, this time because his flying partner had taken the brunt of Starscream's blasts. Processing quickly, Sideswipe understood what he was seeing: the nearly paralyzed mech was controlling his fall as much as he could with one remaining attitude-control thruster. At current range, acceleration and attitude rate, they would crash in the river bed with his brother on top. Sunny would survive.

-X-X-X-

_Starrunner will not survive this time,_ Starscream vowed to himself, carefully computing the firing solution for both null-rays. Damaged as he was - that incompetent mechanic had not even been able to rebuild the Traitor's transformation sequence! - and currently burdened with the mass of a mech Starscream had borne only too often, there was no way Starrunner could escape him now! Firing solution computed, checked and rechecked, he fired both weapons. "Good-bye!" he was about to crow when a missile crushed through his damaged canopy and began burning the delicate circuitry in his core. He tumbled alarmingly, smashed into one of the mountains of metal, and then came to rest on the ground. Raising his head and clearing the dust from his optics, he registered Starrunner spinning slowly on one remaining attitude thruster, accelerating to the ground. With that thruster stuck on, Starrunner would take double damage: at impact, he'd be beneath the yellow Autobot, suffering the crash for them both. He'd be crushed completely.

Starscream found he could still fly but he was stuck in root-mode. "How ironic," he remarked to himself, noting that he also needed a new vocalizer. No matter, he still had his radio. -:-Enough!-:- he broadcast unencrypted on the primary Decepticon channel, knowing the Autobots would be monitoring it. -:-Decepticons, Devastator, Mission Accomplished! Let's go!-:-

-X-X-X-

_Mission accomplished?_ Ravage thought. _Mission accomplished?!? What does that imbecile think our mission was? Mission accomplished. Frag._ He did not leave his post. -:-What about Laserbeak?-:- he sent, encrypted, over the secure Decepticon radio channel. He still regretted not being able to prevent Laserbeak's capture but he'd almost been caught himself when the Minibots swept the ventilation system after trapping Laserbeak over the brig.

Thundercracker replied: -:-I'll help you get in. 'Warp, distract Dino-dolt for a tick and I'll break Ravage's barrier.-:-

Skywarp: -:-Only a tick, 'Cracker - you know I hate him, with his 'Me Swoop' and 'You Decepticons'. Too annoying to live, fraggit!-:-

Ravage detected the energy fluctuations that signaled Skywarp using his unique device. He waited. On the far side of the mountain from the battle, all he could do was monitor the radio and listen with his audio receptors. Thundercracker flew over the mountain to his position. -:-If he is damaged, you will help me get him home.-:- It was not a question. Ravage knew the orders his Master had given the Seekers as well as they did and his Master was not to be denied.

"Yeah, yeah. If he can't fly himself, one of us'll carry him. He has a cassette alt-mode so it's not like we'll really notice." Thundercracker liked to vocalize to the 'Cons who could not, just to feel superior and show off the ability they lacked.

Ravage could not care less. He had a radio and a touch of his Master's telepathic ability: he could read Thundercracker like a data pad. -:-Reallocate your vocalizer energy to removing this barrier.-:-

"Right," Thundercracker said as he transformed. Tinkering with the barricade only a moment, he grew impatient and fired on it. It caved in easily after. "There, now go get your brother and we'll go."

Ravage went, stalking down into the reopened passage expertly. He was almost to the brig when he heard Starscream splutter over the radio channel that might as well be shared: -:-'Cracker, 'Warp, we're gone!-:-

Ravage growled low in his chest. The Trine would feel his Master's wrath when he got back to the Nemesis.

-X-X-X-

Filling Sideswipe's place on console to let the front-line warrior join the defense of the Ark, Beachcomber noted the alarm from the blank face of the mountain. Someone had broken through the barrier they'd used to seal the Casseticons' private entrance. He activated the cameras that would show him the mechs involved.

"Aw, is only Ravage," he murmured to himself. He brought up the image of the mechs gathered in the common room awaiting orders or news. "Heya bots." All optics turned to the intercom speaker. The camera was right beside it so Beachcomber could see just about every mech in the room. "We got Ravage comin' in the back. 'Bee, ya wanna meet 'im or what?"

Cliffjumper was already up and ready to run, except for Gears' hand staying him. Cliffjumper complained. Bumblebee answered, "'Comber, we'll divide up, a third to the brig, the rest to make sure Ravage stays on course. We'll make sure he only takes Laserbeak with him, nothing else and nothing left behind."

"All right, 'Bee," Beachcomber replied over Cliffjumper and Brawn's protests that two prisoners were better and two dead Cassettes were best. "'Comber out." He cut the connection, not caring to listen to Bumblebee explain the concept of 'herding' to mechs who felt they were left out of the action all too often.

-X-X-X-

Jazz watched as Starscream slowly started to leave the ground and caught his transmission on the main 'Con channel: -:-Enough! Decepticons, Devastator, Mission Accomplished! Let's go!-:- Jazz dodged carefully around Devastator as the gestalt swatted Grimlock one more time and took powerfully to the air himself. _If I time it just right - yes!_ Starscream did not see him. Directly beneath the hovering air commander, Jazz blasted him, holding the trigger down at relatively close range, cutting through his target's armor because Starscream was too damaged to fly away quickly enough.

-X-X-X-

Concerned that Megatron did not show himself, Optimus continued firing on Devastator. How the gestalt managed to throw Omega Supreme that far, he thought he did not want to know. He registered the fight between the Lamborghinis and the Seekers, storing those images away for later. With Prowl down and Devastator seeming to focus on him now, he had no time to process it. He dodged another blast from Devastator's solar rifle, feeling the paint on his chest plating scorch and one of his windows finally crack with a wince. Sludge had a firm hold on Devastator's right arm: Scavenger was screaming over the common radio channel, cursing the Dinobot and all his Earthly relatives. The Twins' fight seemed to be slowing with both Starscream and Sunstreaker down. _Thank Primus! Starscream's calling the retreat! What is Jazz doing?!?_ As Devastator wrenched his arm from Sludge's jaws to swing at Grimlock who was crushing down hard on Mixmaster's drum Optimus bellowed, "Jazz! What are you doing?!?"

Jazz grinned ferally and kept at it, answering Optimus over the secure Autobot channel, -:-Saw an opportunity and I'm takin' it!-:-

Optimus knew Jazz wasn't watching Devastator. Ironhide, Prowl, Starrunner, Omega Supreme and Ratchet were nowhere to be seen. Swoop was trading shots with Skywarp; the third Seeker was missing. Starscream was spluttering over the Decepticon common channel as he slowly turned in mid-air to fight Jazz. The gestalt was reaching for those two nearest combatants, presumably to save the Seeker and squash his attacker. Optimus launched himself for the smaller 'Bot just as Ironhide rolled in from wherever Devastator had kicked him earlier.

"Jazz! Move!" Ironhide barked at Jazz as he closed the distance to him, hitting him in the back of the legs hard enough to launch him forward, out of both Starscream's line of fire and Devastator's reach. Optimus caught himself, stopping forward motion in time to avoid colliding with Ironhide or Jazz. Ironhide didn't slow down. Starscream's null-ray mostly missed him; Devastator's swipe did not. Ironhide transformed just as his side was crushed in and his van-mode began to roll over. As a robot, he didn't roll far across the ground and came to rest on his back, bringing his 'water-gun' to bear. It was unnecessary. Starscream didn't cut the power quickly enough and Devastator's left arm, Bonecrusher, took the null-ray full on, hanging limp from his connection to his team. Devastator had Starscream in his right hand and was airborne, this time with speed: apparently all his personalities were in agreement on the withdrawal.

Starscream: -:-'Cracker, 'Warp, we're gone!-:-

He watched Skywarp disengage Swoop by teleporting out along their path of retreat. Thundercracker flew from the far side of Mt. Hilary to take up a position near Devastator's head. Optimus, through his vocalizer and over the radio: -:-Autobots, report!-:-

"Sideswipe." He sounded relieved as he helped his brother to stand.

"Me Grimlock!"

-:-Sunstreaker.-:- He sounded uncharacteristically subdued on radio. Optimus deduced multiple crashes had injured him badly. Optimus didn't catch enough of what he said next to bother processing it. (Sunstreaker said to his brother, "That jet-bot's not gettin' up by himself. And he got his paint all over me.")

"Mmmh, me Sludge."

At the same time, through his speaker system: "Jazz-man here. Where's Prowl?"

-:-Ratchet.-:- The CMO sounded grim. -:-I've got him Jazz.-:-

-:-Awwk! Me Swoop get him Starrunner.-:- Even the normally-happy Swoop sounded bleak. Optimus watched him transform with only a minor hitch from his own injuries as he landed near the Twins. He couldn't see Starrunner but guessed he was in their vicinity.

"I'm right here, Optimus," Ironhide drawled from his side. Optimus looked down and smiled faintly behind his mask.

Following Swoop's example, Slag and Snarl sounded off over the radio.

Tallying quickly, Optimus came up three participants short. "Who didn't report? Prowl? Omega? Starrunner?"

Ratchet: -:-Prime, I have Prowl. He's off-line but stable. I need someone to - great, Jazz, help me load him up.-:- Optimus marveled that Prowl survived Devastator's focused attack. He made a note to discuss that behavior with Prowl when he was again functional. It was disturbing to watch the normally random destruction of the slow-witted gestalt turned so fully on one target. He didn't linger on the realization that he'd been the second recipient of that attention.

Swoop: -:-Prime! Me Swoop not help him Starrunner here. Need repair bay now!-:-

Before Optimus could answer Swoop, Sunstreaker spoke loudly, "Get off me, bro'. Help Swoop peel that piece o' slag up." Metal slid off metal and Sunstreaker went to his knees without his Twin's support. "I don't need red streaks added to the black." Optimus decided Sunstreaker would live to fight another day.

Omega Supreme's answer startled him: "Omega Supreme - functional. Assistance required." Optimus had no idea what might be broken on the huge mech.

"Optimus," Ironhide said thoughtfully, "I'll go help Ratchet and Jazz get Prowl inside. The Dinos are lookin' out for each other just fine," he made a broad gesture to the two pair of big mechs leaning on each other and slowly lumbering toward the entrance to the Ark, "An' I think Swoop and the Lambos will be okay. Why don't you go see to Omega and we'll all get inside 'fore they come back to admire their handiwork?"

Optimus nodded once, never questioning taking his friend's advice.

-X-X-X-

Ironhide could tell Optimus was processing a bit slower than normal. He presented a simple plan to keep them all moving and was relieved when Optimus nodded and started off toward Omega Supreme. Ratchet and Swoop were talking medical jargon on the radio, both somber.

Ironhide was slowly trekking to the site of Prowl's meeting with the mountain when Ratchet addressed him. -:-'Hide. We've got Prowl.-:- Ironhide was close enough to see that Ratchet was in ambulance-mode now, and Jazz was closing his rear doors. -:-Can you serve as transport for Starrunner?-:- Ratchet started rolling, Porsche only a tick behind him. -:-Swoop's got his processor and spark casing and can carry Sunny in but we don't want - we'll take all of Starrunner inside. Sideswipe'll stay and load you up.-:- The two passed Ironhide's position, still picking up speed.

Transforming with some difficulty, Ironhide answered: -:-Aye, Ratch'. I'll see ya in the med bay.-:-

-X-X-X-

Ravage thought it was too easy. When he sensed the mechs in the vicinity of the brig, he stopped, listening to their thoughts. _"...Get no action..."_, _"...Won't let me fire on Ravage..."_, and _"...Hope it's over soon..."_ were among the tidbits he picked up. So, Laserbeak's guards were under orders to not fire on him today? How could he use that?

Almost without sound, he padded over the cells of the brig until he sensed his brother's processor beneath him. _Here._ He extended a delicate cutting tool from his paw and carefully cut through the weld on three sides of the vent. Claws in the air holes, he used his weight to bend it down. _It is not as if they will not know I have been here,_ he thought. He tried the encrypted radio at low power to raise Laserbeak: -:-Laserbeak! Power up.-:- No answer; no CPU activity. -:-Laserbeak! Move!-:- No response. Ravage dropped lightly to the floor of the cell. Laserbeak did not stir. Ravage scanned his systems. _You idiot! You put yourself in stasis again._ Ravage nudged the bird-like mech but none of his sensors were activated. He swore to himself. No other way available to him, he gripped Laserbeak's neck as gently as he could in his jaws and lifted him as he'd observed the Earthly felines on which his current mode was based lift their prey. _You spend too much time spying on Auto-dolts: their inefficiency has tainted you._ He looked around the cell. The door wasn't even locked. He looked at the vent through which he'd jumped and computed that returning through it with Laserbeak in his jaws without injuring at least one of them was improbable. _They have orders to not fire on me. I can walk out the front door._ Appreciating the humor of it, he did precisely that.

_Master will be pleased by this imagery,_ he thought smugly, trailed by an ever-growing group of grumbling Autobots as he blatantly paraded his prize through the halls of the Ark. He maintained dignity worthy of his Master, careful not to hurry. _This almost makes up for having to leave you here last time, Laserbeak,_ he thought to his burden.

-X-X-X-

Near daybreak, the crowd in the med bay began to disperse. Ratchet forced it to. With Prime, Ironhide, Sunstreaker, Prowl, and Starrunner laid out, requiring varying amounts of re-building, Ratchet sent Swoop out to assess Omega Supreme's condition. He appreciated Prime's attempt to explain the Guardian's damage, but Prime was no medic, not even a mechanic, so all Ratchet could conclude from his report was that Omega wasn't going to 'bleed out' and Prime's processor was not running optimally. The Dinobots left first, requiring Ratchet to see to Swoop and tell Grimlock their bombardier was fine before they'd go. Swoop had patched each of the others up when Grimlock demanded that Swoop be checked out, too, or no Dinobot would leave the bay. Sideswipe and Jazz finally left together after each trying in his own stubborn way to persuade the CMO to let him stay and fret. He told them to get cleaned up and get some energon and come see him at noon.

Ratchet hoped that would give him enough time to at least have a plan for each of his new patients.

Prime and Ironhide would be fine within the day. Both required some glass replacement and to have a portion of their plating re-conditioned, but Swoop could see to all that. In addition, Prime's CPU needed time to run its own diagnostics and repairs. Ratchet was not worried about those two.

Sunstreaker was nearly as bad off as Prowl. Ratchet wished he were actually just a bit more so: he hadn't shut down yet and was steadily cursing Seekers and complaining about his finish. Ratchet felt he was running his vocalizer specifically to keep from going into recharge. "Primus fraggit, Sunny," he said wearily, trying to interrupt the flow of words, "shut the slag up and go off-line for a while. I'll get to you. You're not that bad off."

Sunstreaker kept talking as if he had not heard Ratchet. Ratchet swore with feeling. Sunstreaker kept going. Ratchet stalked over and bent down close to Sunstreaker. Optic-to-optic, Sunstreaker gave no indication that he knew Ratchet was there. He kept vocalizing. Ratchet decided that for the sake of his treatment of his other patients, he'd do something he rarely did: he removed Sunstreaker's battered chestplate and deftly disconnected the main data cable connecting his spark to his processor. The fighter's optics dimmed and his body relaxed, now truly resting on the table. The room was quiet except for the medical equipment in use and the internal systems of the mechs whose lives it was preserving. Ratchet returned to the table where he'd been working.

This was the table on which Prowl lay. When he'd first assessed Prowl's injuries, on the other side of the valley where Prowl impacted the rock of the mountain, he'd thought Prowl was essentially destroyed. Now, though, looking at what he had left to work with and comparing it to his other near-death case, Prowl wasn't so bad off. A lot of his armor was crushed, some of it so badly it was partially torn from its moorings, and his glass was all broken and his door wings smashed, but ... "At least I can still tell you're Prowl," Ratchet said to his silent patient, "and I can recondition most of your plating within a few days. Wheeljack will rebuild your doors for me and we'll have you back on duty within the week."

Ironhide was still on-line and heard this. He was glad to learn that Prowl wasn't so bad as he'd imagined. Ratchet paused in his narrative. He sounded so close to exhaustion that Ironhide feared he might fall down himself. Ironhide wanted him to continue, wanted to know about that young mech who'd flown to save Sunstreaker.

"'Hide, I know you're on-line," Ratchet addressed him as if he'd heard Ironhide thinking about him. "Your systems are too quiet to be recharging." When Ironhide didn't reply immediately, Ratchet looked over at him. "Well? Something wrong with your vocalizer?"

Ironhide powered up his optics and smiled fondly at his weary friend. "Nah, Ratch'. I just know ya don't like ta be interrupted with questions while yer workin' and thought you'd get around to what I wanna know soon enough."

The medic made a wry sound. "You know me too damn well, 'Hide. What do you want to know about Starrunner?"

"Is there enough to rebuild 'im? When Sides' loaded me up, there were an awful lot o' pieces."

"No, 'Hide, there's not. If Prime and Prowl'll authorize the expenditure, we'll have to remake him from scratch. He's down to his spark casing and his processors." The medic paused and thought for a moment. "Swoop was able to seal the cracks in his spark chamber quickly and salvage his processors from the mess before they drowned in fluids." Ratchet looked over to the table where Swoop had quickly set up a power source to keep Starrunner's processors properly energized. "I don't know if I can justify putting his re-build in the queue in front of the others who've been in stasis since the crash."

Ironhide thought for a moment. Ratchet met his optics. "Leave that ta me, Ratchet. To me an' Jazz, anyway. We'll get ya their authorization."


	4. Approaching the Origin

Title: _Approaching the Origin_

Universe: loosely G1 cartoon, just before the episode _Triple Take Over_.

Rating: PG, straying into PG-13 for implied substance abuse and suspected child abuse.

Pairing: Jazz/Prowl in the background, and maybe Astrotrain/Cobweb, if you hold your mouth right.

Author's Notes: Starrunner and Cobweb are my offspring, my beloved children. All others belong to acronyms. 9620 words.

-:-radio transmission-:-

* * *

The sense of panic wore off and he rested. He had no feeling for how long it had been since the fight: his internal clock was not functioning. He could not feel the connections to it. Searching more thoroughly, he could not feel any connections. He could not feel the empty connectors for his missing transceiver, could no longer detect the repairs Ratchet had made to his plating, could neither hear nor see nor sense anything, not his optics, audio receptors or tactile sensors. He drifted in the sense of nothingness and wondered if he were dead.

In the quiet, the lack of stimulus, he had one sensation he could pinpoint: Cobweb's spark. He had never known why, or even questioned it, it was simply a fact that he and Cobweb each had a sense of the other. After the time that Shockwave shot him, Cobweb told him that he knew the moment it happened because Starrunner had been in excruciating pain and in fear for his life. It was how Cobweb knew to go find him, and where to look. Any spark-stirring, intense experience one had, the other knew. He thought about what he had felt from Cobweb, when he went to look for his friend to tell him about the order to leave for Nigeria, and regretted his behavior toward Cobweb. _Everything he ever did, was to make our lives better,_ he thought, _I wish I had understood._ Cobweb had always been part of his life, had been there with him from the moment he became aware. _I can tell Cobweb's spark is there,_ he thought, _and I am thinking about it, so we are both still alive._ He paused, not really thinking, just feeling relief. _I was so intent on leaving, I did not think how it would affect him,_ he thought. _I hope my absence is not hard on him. Perhaps he is relieved that I am gone. He probably has that Triple-changer to look out for him, now._ Starrunner found that thought reassuring, as reassuring, now, as the thought that Cobweb was cultivating a relationship of any kind with Astrotrain had been upsetting at first.

A random thought passed his processor: _Astrotrain hates Starscream._ If he could feel his connection to his faceplates, he would have smiled to himself at that. Starscream's disdain for the flightless Cobweb might help cement his place in the Triple-changer's protection.

Starrunner reviewed everything that happened since leaving the Nemesis. He participated in the decoy mission over the Nigerian coast, pulled Starscream and the Dinobot out of the water, and helped the Air Commander back to base. He tried, and failed, to work up the nerve to again go to see Cobweb in the shop where he worked with Astrotrain; he went for a flight to clear his head instead. He decided that Cobweb was probably as right about the Autobots as he had been right about anything: if they won over the Decepticons, the non-combatants - like Cobweb - would be spared, reconditioned perhaps, and taken in as refugees to a peaceful if inefficient culture. If the Decepticons won, they would exterminate every Cybertronian who ever wore the red badge and probably proceed to fight among themselves forever. He remembered Cobweb explaining it to him, one morning when he could not recharge:

_If we stay and the Decepticons win, our lives go on. The same. Never changing. If we break away without a way to prevent someone looking for us,_ he paused and Starrunner knew he was regretting the lost opportunity to make their transport from Cybertron appear to malfunction, _we suffer the same fate as an Autobot: terminated without a second thought. If we stay here and the Anarchobots win, they might imprison us for a while. Rehabilitate us. If we cooperate, we'll have freedom. Unless something drastic changes, I don't believe the Autobots have a chance to win. Or negotiate peace. They lack discipline._

For all of Shockwave's programming and teaching about the lofty goals of efficient existence, Starrunner was still not convinced. The more he thought of it, flying over and around the mountains of western China, the more he appreciated the chaotic beauty of Earth, the inefficient use of space and resource that this planet - this living, thriving planet - represented. He tried to imagine what Cybertron must have been like when it was teeming with life, with the disorder Shockwave so disdained. _We cannot force order on life,_ he thought, _even on mechanized life like our own._ He had been at this battlefront long enough to have seen the enemy in action. _I can choose for myself,_ he thought, _to get Cobweb a better life. I can help Number Four win._

He was flying fast, feeling lighter after having sorted through his own philosophy. _Number Four will not destroy me without making use of what I know. He may not destroy me at all if they can use air support._ Remembering the purposefulness of Number Four's incursions into their base, he skimmed through the cold water that seemed to leap joyfully from one high plateau to a lower one and realized the other Seekers had found him. He moved away, trying to get out of sensor range; they followed, and he ended up in a fight for his life, struggling against three experienced fighters. Thundercracker and Skywarp were mostly playing with him, but his jet form was tough, based on a MiG. He broke away from them and rammed Starscream, tearing a long gouge in the Air Commander's fuselage. If he could damage Starscream enough, he would call a retreat, Starrunner knew. But Skywarp teleported near them, directly above him, and Thundercracker hit him from below, nearly crushing him between them. He broke away and dove, faking the crash in Mongolia. While he waited with all the systems he could spare powered down, anxious to see if they would come down to complete his destruction, he resolved to get his databanks to Number Four. When breems had passed and his passive sensors picked up no sign of them, he powered up his active systems. With neither radio functionality nor long-range scans, he navigated on visual cues. He made his way over the pole to the other hemisphere and a known Autobot patrol route.

He was only partially conscious when Talker and Stalker found him. He remembered his first meeting with Number Four, a Cybertronian who was even more reasonable in direct contact: how many of his fellow Decepticons would have helped him stand when part of his transformation sequence failed? If Starscream were not watching, he always suspected Thundercracker would have been nice to him, and Skywarp indifferent, but Starscream seemed to take an intense dislike to him the first time he transformed from MiG to biped. And then there was Swoop, and Ratchet, medical professionals who did not know him at all, caring for him with gentleness that rivaled Cobweb's. Inefficient, Shockwave had that right, but having been on the receiving end of both, he'd choose that wasteful care given a stranger over the efficient, impersonal treatment the Decepticons generally espoused. The medics did not think twice, treating even a prisoner as if his life had value for its own sake, regardless of what trouble he might bring to their cause. _Undemanding generosity._ Starrunner had only encountered that in Cobweb before, and it seemed to be a matter of course for everyone here.

In the days preceding the attack Starscream led on the Autobots, Starrunner met no one who displayed any personal fear of him. Granted, he was unarmed and had tried to make it clear that he wanted to assist them, but everything he'd ever been taught about the Autobots said they were cowards, inept fighters who grouped together for strength in numbers, ground-pounders who feared the Decepticon flying strength. Wheeljack always brought a Dinobot with him when he checked on Starrunner's work, but he did it with the air that he was socializing the Dinobot more than protecting himself from a potential threat. _I was just another worker, someone to get to know,_ he thought, fondly remembering all the time Number Four spent talking with him. _Lord Prime had to know what they were here for,_ he thought, _yet he fought them himself. They all fought rather than turn me over. For me. Lord Prime, Number Four, Prowl, Swoop and his brothers, Ironsi- hide, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, even the great one who stays outside. Sunstreaker must have been badly damaged when we hit the ground..._

He was consumed by worry for Sunstreaker and the other Autobots when he registered he suddenly had access to a vocalizer and sensors.

-X-X-X-

_Executive decisions may be you Prowl's function in life,_ Swoop thought as he registered Prowl's determination to leave the repair bay, _but that not mean you make them in vacuum._ Swoop knew he might not be able to keep Prowl there, but that did not mean he had to let Prowl leave without protest. Swoop placed himself solidly at Prowl's side and crossed his arms over his chest in his best imitation of Ratchet's displeasure. He shook his head. "No. You Prowl need more time to heal. Him Ratchet say new doors nearly done, maybe one more day." Prowl had a pained expression on his normally stoic faceplates as he tried to sit up straight on the repair table. "You Prowl in pain, me Swoop see." He softened his posture, deciding sternness may not work as a tactic against one whose primary demeanor was more so than anything he could muster. He reached out to steady his patient with one hand, reaching for a dose of pain killer with the other, "Let me Swoop do job, please? Give medicine for pain."

Prowl overrode him. "No, Swoop, no more pain medication. It makes all my processes slow." Leaning heavily into Swoop's grasp of his shoulder, he swung his legs over the side of the table.

Ratchet had only moved him to the 'recovery area', as he called it, that afternoon. Swoop was not sure if Prowl realized that. Ratchet did not expect him to get this energetic for at least several more hours. _Must be good sign,_ he thought.

Prowl schooled his expression away from the grimace of pain, almost succeeding in attaining his normal lack of expression as he made optic contact with the medic. "Let me go do my job, Swoop. Let me go to my office. I can rest my frame there and still do the work that has piled up." He paused, processing. "Is this Thursday?"

He was off by a day, which was not surprising considering how close they had come to losing him completely. No more than Prowl had been aware of his surroundings he was making a very good guess at how long he'd been in and out - mostly out - of consciousness. In four days, Swoop had only known he was alert for a few minutes, and those for very specific reasons. Swoop realized why Ratchet always moved recovering patients to the tables along the wall: Prowl could only leave the berth one way, making it easier for an attendant to prevent him leaving, or at least prevent him injuring himself in trying to leave. He shifted to allow Prowl room to move his legs, never letting go of his shoulder. "No. This Friday. Time twenty-two-oh-three." If Prowl would not stay for his own sake, maybe he would stay for Swoop's: "You Prowl get me Swoop in trouble if you leave now. This one thing him Ratchet tell me Swoop specifically, you Prowl need more time to heal."

"Swoop, please. I am leaving now." He pushed off the table.

Swoop caught him with a gentle hand on either shoulder. Prowl seemed like a large mech, in Swoop's imagination, until Swoop stood this close to him. He realized the second-in-command was not even as big as Ratchet, significantly smaller than Swoop. _Presence,_ he thought, _not about volume, about presence._ Swoop truly felt for his injuries, well able to imagine what it must be like to have one's wings so damaged as to have them completely removed and rebuilt. He tut-tutted in sympathy. He had one more angle to try, as Ratchet taught him: appeal to your patient to deny his own worse nature. "You Prowl stubborn, him Ratchet say."

Prowl did not acknowledge the statement. "Let me go to my office. Swoop, that is an order."

"Mmmh," Swoop knew how Ratchet would respond to such an order, but his mentor had told him that when Prowl felt strong enough to pull rank, they should let him go. To force him to remain past that point might have Prowl fretting and fuming enough to hinder his internal repairs.

Prowl slowly started toward the door, Swoop supporting every move. He was clearly in pain and off-balance, lacking two appendages that he probably did not even realize were a significant part of his inertia. Even if his systems were not supporting extensive self-repair, the lack of his door-wings would certainly hamper his ability to maintain his equilibrium.

Also, no matter how determined he was, Swoop knew there was no way his patient could make it even half way to his quarters. They stopped several times en route, pausing longer each time. He marveled at Prowl's will and almost offered outright to carry him, but Ratchet said a patient should be allowed to find his own limits as long as he was not doing additional damage to himself. It was awkward, pulling Prowl up against his side, being careful to touch only his shoulders and arms, staying away from the incomplete repairs to his back, but Swoop took absolutely as much of his weight as he could. _You Prowl not to be left alone, that sure._ He recalled a bit of conversation he'd overheard before the battle that left Prowl in this condition: someone told Ratchet that living space was being reallocated to make room for their new 'recruit' and this addition meant even the executive officer would have a roommate. _That bot not like you Prowl much,_ Swoop thought, remembering the bitterness he thought he heard in the speaker's voice as he explained that Jazz, as closest in rank and seniority to Prowl, had received that 'sentence'. Whoever it was went on at some length about how boring and regimented the tactician was. Swoop disagreed with the idea that it was such a terrible deal for Jazz: Prowl was probably the quietest person in the Ark. Living with his brothers, who were only quiet while a fight was brewing, Swoop thought the XO's reserve would make him a great roommate. Shuffling along the corridor toward the command offices, Swoop was impressed with his patient's determination and calm acceptance of his support. _Even him Jazz can't be boisterous all time,_ Swoop thought. _Good friend, visit you Prowl in medical. If Jazz not there, me Swoop stay. Ratchet know where to look._

As they made the last turn before Prowl's quarters, he sighed and said thank you, as if he realized he could not have done it alone.

"You Prowl welcome," Swoop said at a similarly low decibel.

"Swoop! Man, Ratchet'll have your platin' for lettin' Prowl outta medical!" Jazz appeared as if Swoop's thoughts had summoned him. He hurried up to them and supported Prowl's other side, similar to what Swoop was doing but with an arm around his waist below the door-wing attachments. "Glad to see ya out an' about," he said, moving with them.

His friend's assistance seemed to give Prowl a boost. "Swoop, you are not to raise Ratchet on my account," he ordered.

Jazz keyed open the door; Swoop thought that confirmed his change in living arrangements.

Prowl continued, "When he arrives at medical in the morning will be soon enough to tell him where to find me." Once inside Prowl's office, the anteroom to their quarters, Jazz helped Prowl the last few steps to sit at his desk. Swoop was simply too big to fit behind it and help Prowl settle comfortably. Prowl looked up at him, leaning exhaustedly on the desk. He could not sit back if he wanted to because of the state of his back. Even with Swoop supporting nearly all of his weight as they went, he was spent. He sounded like he barely had enough energy to run necessary systems, let alone his vocalizer. "Do you understand, Swoop? Let Ratchet have his normal recharge cycle. Wait until he gets there in the morning to tell him I excused myself from the repair bay."

Swoop placed his hands on the desk and leaned down to look his patient in the eye. "Aye. Me Swoop not rouse him Ratchet for this." Glancing at Jazz, he removed his notes and four doses of pain killer from subspace and held them out to Jazz who received them gingerly. He issued an order of his own, optic-to-optic with Prowl, "You Prowl too stubborn to take pain killers in repair bay but me Swoop know, necessary for solid rest. Me Swoop trust him Jazz call if you Prowl have difficulty. Him Jazz sharp." Prowl may not have received that direction clearly, but Jazz did. Satisfied that a concerned friend would encounter less resistance than a medic, Swoop left. There was another patient who needed his attention, and was in no condition to protest.

Ratchet was going out on a limb. Calling it a valid training exercise for Swoop, he guided his protege in building a new form for Starrunner. Ironhide was supportive of that effort, even stopping by a few times to check on their progress. Jazz and the Lamborghinis were all for it, trying each in his own way to sway Optimus Prime to give full approval to the rebuild. The Prime had one reservation: he wanted to know what Prowl thought. Swoop knew Jazz would not hesitate to push Prowl to side with him and the others, but Swoop wondered how much cooperation Jazz was likely to get from Prowl. _If Prowl not fight when Jazz offer pain meds, him Starrunner have good chance,_ Swoop thought, resuming his current task of spinning Wheeljack's super-alloy into kilometers of fine wire for Starrunner's nervous system. _Believe that when it happens!_

Ratchet's console chirped for attention. It was a text message. Swoop paused his spinning and leaned his large frame over to look at the screen. The missive was from Prowl's account: _I'm leaving the door receptive to medical override. If you leave the special energon for Prowl on the desk I'll make sure he takes every drop of it. -Jazz_

Swoop marked the message as received and sent a crested smiley in answer. Glad Jazz had read his notes so quickly, he reviewed the instructions for making the enriched energon Ratchet prescribed. It had a shelf-life of only groons (which Swoop converted immediately to several hours) so he set an internal alarm for 0400 thinking that would leave Jazz most of the morning to convince Prowl to drink it down.

He had kilometers of wiring to spin.

-X-X-X-

It was days after Prowl excused himself from medical when Jazz approached him with his idea. Prowl was not amused. He scowled at his desk, then looked back up at his friend. "Sit," he said, indicating the chair across from him, "and tell me exactly how you think that will help."

Jazz beamed, clearly believing that if Prowl were listening to him, he was going to win his approval. He sat in the indicated spot, gracefully claiming the XO's attention. "I'm good at what I do," it was a matter of fact. "But even after havin' the better part of four days to mine Starrunner's processor," he referred to the interval between Starrunner's arrival and the attack, "my knowledge of the 'Con base is nothin', next ta his. We need to know what's goin' on with Megatron, why we haven't seen him much. If they're havin' a mutiny or somethin', it'd be an opportunity to do serious damage, maybe help the split be permanent."

"If they are in mutiny, you will be walking into a war zone. If there were a mutiny there, it would probably be led by Soundwave: we have not seen him in action in months. That implies he has been working in stealth." Prowl paused, door-wings twitching in thought. "There is a ninety-two percent probability that any internal action attempted by his own people would be halted quickly and viciously by Megatron himself. No trial, no questions asked, just death by fusion cannon. No. I cannot approve your plan. You would be without available back-up. Alone."

"That's why I wanna try this. I wouldn't be alone, I'd have someone along with me who had an insider's knowledge of the place." Jazz leaned forward, "Insider's knowledge about the leadership styles of Megatron's lieutenants, too. If the Slag Maker's just cleanin' house and sent Starscream's crew to deal with the loose end we held, I can get out as easily as I can get in."

"You are assuming Starrunner will cooperate." Prowl held up a hand, a signal for Jazz to let him finish, "We cannot ask him until the most controversial part of your plan has already been implemented." He paused, logic center searching for the most disastrous scenario. "If he overwhelmed you, he could be an infiltrator among us. In your form, an enemy could do any amount of dire injury to us before we knew. We might not be able to spare your life in subduing him."

"I already talked to Ratchet about it. He'll put partitions in place. And I'm willin' to be put off-line for a while to let you and Ratchet talk to Starrunner directly about it. I would not be present in any significant way."

"That is another problem with your idea. You are the one who has the greatest rapport with your informant. It would be best if you spoke with him about it and Ratchet and I monitored your exchange."

"Ratch' offered a way around that, too," Jazz played his trump card, an available way to talk to Starrunner that did not require Jazz himself to be off-line.

-X-X-X-

In the repair bay, Ratchet was copying Red Alert's entire CPU into three shielded, rad-hardened processors. After exhaustive scans, he determined that part of the security director's recent rapid degeneration was due to a sensitivity to signals of all kinds: microwaves, radio frequencies the humans used, even cosmic rays. He devised a voting scheme for the three so that Red's spark would still have one set of information to go on, one signal to read directly. He might still over-react to the information he received, but it would be filtered information, determined by at least two of the three processors. _If they all three disagree, you may lock up but you won't be shooting any of us again,_ Ratchet thought.

Jazz opened the door to the shop, knocking rhythmically as he did so to keep from startling the medics. Prowl walked in past him.

Ratchet was immediately concerned. Swoop had recruited Jazz to help with Prowl's rehabilitation; seeing him escorting Prowl back to medical made Ratchet uneasy. He'd only reattached Prowl's doors two days past and had a moment of doubt when he worried he hadn't scanned them thoroughly enough. He nodded at Jazz and asked Prowl, "How are the new doors working out?"

Prowl halted. Although his facial expression didn't change, Ratchet got the impression that his own repairs had been the farthest thing from his mind before Ratchet spoke. "They are functional, if a bit sensitive." His door-wings twitched a little as Jazz breezed past, as if to demonstrate.

Jazz wasted no time in getting to business. Prowl's doors were not it. "Can we put Red Alert's shell to that good use we talked about, Ratch'?" He stood near the table on which lay the parts he knew were the necessary components of another mech.

-X-X-X-

The vocalizer and sensors were not his own. They were different than he was used to, but perhaps he had suffered so much damage that they had been replaced completely. No matter, he was able to make them work. He could hear others around him. "Ssss-" he tried to ask about the yellow warrior whose welfare pried on his mind. "Sssuuuun-" the unfamiliar sound of the vocalizer was throwing him off. He cycled his cooling system - even that felt strange, new to him - and made it work. "Sunstreaker. Did he survive the crash?"

Two Cybertronians laughed: Number Four and Ratchet sounded relieved. Another drew air sharply through his intakes. A fourth, Prowl, answered him. "Yes, he did. He has been concerned for you. Do you remember your own name?"

Settling into his new skin, he found the gain on all the sensors turned up too high for his comfort. He adjusted them, bringing his optics on-line. "Yes sir, I remember. I am Starrunner." He looked up from the repair table on which he lay and met four sets of optics in turn: Prowl, Ratchet, Number Four and Swoop. "He- he's been concerned for me? How are the others who were in the fight? Did everyone survive? Are- are you all right, Prowl-sir?"

The looks that passed the faces of the four Autobots standing over him were telling. Number Four was his usual smiling self, looking pleased to see Starrunner. Prowl wore almost no expression at all, but he imagined Prowl was approving of his questions. Ratchet was busy watching the monitors over his new form, making notes in a datapad. Swoop looked relieved but somehow disturbed. Prowl answered his questions. "Yes, Sunstreaker has been to see Optimus Prime and myself several times, expressing concern in his own way that you be rebuilt. Everyone survived and has been repaired, including me. Thank you for asking."

"Re- rebuilt, Sir?"

"Hasn't happened yet, Sparklet," Ratchet growled, "your form was destroyed. Swoop's building a new one for you but Jazz wanted to talk to you so bad he convinced me to let you borrow this one. Don't get attached to it."

Alarmed at the CMO's words, Starrunner exerted some effort and lifted first the head and then the left arm of the form he currently wore. A gray hand at the end of a white forearm responded; he could see a fire chief's shield emblazoned in red on the white automobile hood that was now his loosely-latched chestplate. He flexed the fingers, then reached tentatively for Swoop's hand. The young medic took the dark hand gently in his own light gray one, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else but choosing to stay and offer comfort. The touch grounded Starrunner, made him feel solid again, lessened the disorientation he had in this borrowed form. "Red Alert. You have let me borrow Red Alert's shell. Where is he?"

"He's doing better now than he's been in a while," Ratchet replied lightly without answering the question, "I think when I put him back in his own plating, he'll be more comfortable in it. You immediately turned the gain down on almost everything. That confirms something I've suspected for a while: that overgrown smoke detector tweaked them up past their limiters. And tweaked some more to hide it from me."

Registering that Ratchet had explained all he cared to about his other patient, he turned to look Number Four in the face. "Num- Jazz, Sir, what did you need to talk to me about?"

-X-X-X-

To say it was strange to hear Starrunner's speech patterns from Red Alert's vocalizer would have been an understatement. No, Jazz had never heard anything so dislocating. He kept smiling, trying to keep from showing how much it disconcerted him to see Starrunner this way. _No wonder Prowl didn't want to go straight to the plan,_ he thought, _he and Ratchet would hear him comin' through me and..._ he suppressed a shudder, _Swoop's creeped out enough for all of us._

He watched as Red Alert's hand - Starrunner's hand for the moment - reached out to Swoop, asking and sharing comfort from the only other person who was openly affected by the strangeness. Starrunner asked about Red Alert. _Most of us wouldn't have thought twice about that fra-,_ Jazz stopped himself, consciously trying to forgive Red Alert and not curse him for problems not completely his fault. Ratchet responded, assuring Starrunner that Red Alert would be better since the adjustments Starrunner made to his sensors. He asked why Jazz had him placed in this position.

Jazz tried to make his smile conspiratorial, as if this were just part of the plan. He met Red Alert's bright blue optics and had to remind himself who was behind them. "Starrunner. I think it's time to go back into the 'Con base. Find out if the Slag Maker's lost control of his minions, see which of his lieutenants holds power, or has gotten himself fragged by a fusion cannon. Will ya help me?"

Starrunner answered in the affirmative, trying to sit up in the larger, completely different body. Swoop and Ratchet helped him. Jazz watched, thinking, _This is by far the most cooperative Red Alert has ever been._ Ratchet went back to the programming effort he was working on when they walked in. Swoop resumed cradling one of Red Alert's hands in his own, very likely remembering the first few moments when he became aware in his current large, unaccustomed frame. Prowl stood at the foot of the repair table, looking approving and supportive in his understated way.

More comfortable conversing from his new position, Starrunner reiterated his answer: "Yessir, Jazz-sir, of course I'll help any way I can."

"You should hear what he has in mind before you agree, Starrunner," Prowl advised.

Jazz shot him a look. Prowl's facial plating gave nothing, but he flashed an optic at the spy. Starrunner watched that subtle exchange and squeezed Swoop's hand nervously. Swoop made a small, strangled squawk. Before Jazz could explain, Starrunner defended his answer, "No, Prowl-sir, I meant it."

Jazz explained his plan. Prowl offered mostly helpful additions, running and re-running scenarios as Starrunner gave them more details. The tactician only occasionally contradicted one of Jazz's notions, usually resolved within moments by something Starrunner remembered. Swoop's presence seemed to ground Starrunner; Jazz was glad of the sturdy Dinobot's perseverance in staying with his patient. He was nearly satisfied that having Starrunner aboard his own frame would be a significant advantage while infiltrating the Decepticon base when Starrunner offered what could be a very big kink in the smoothness of the plan.

"Jazz-sir, may-" he hesitated, and Red Alert's head dropped, optics off, "may I ask a favor of you?" His hands gripped Swoop's and the other edge of the repair table firmly, as if to prevent him from slipping off it.

Jazz and Prowl made optic contact, and Prowl dimmed his once, an affirmation, a vote of confidence. "What do ya have in mind, man?" Jazz asked brightly.

Starrunner seemed to register the non-committal nature of that response. The white faceplates shifted uncomfortably. He powered up the blue optics and looked at each of them, Jazz, then Prowl, then Swoop. He seemed to address Prowl. "My friend, Cobweb. I need to talk to him if I go back there. I- I'd like to bring him here, now that I know what it's like. He said we were better off among the Decepticons because if you won, we could throw down arms and be spared, but if we were among you and the Decepticons won, we'd be destroyed. He did not want to come." He turned to Jazz, but could read no more in Jazz's smile than in Prowl's face, so he ended up focused back on Swoop, who was openly processing every word, sharing his concern for his friend. "If he sees that you are such sharing Cybertronians, that you, the one I thought to approach, are willing to go so far as to share your form with me to give me a chance to talk to him again, he may be swayed." His gaze made the rounds of the table again, from Swoop to Prowl to Jazz. Jazz was no longer smiling. Red Alert's faceplates gave every bit of earnestness they could project. "By now he will have heard the story of the attack from the other Seekers: he works closely with the Chief Mechanical Officer and Starscream will have bragged about it while he was in for repairs, I'm sure. Cobweb knows my spark is not extinguished. He may even be able to tell I'm close when you carry me into the base."

There was a long pause during which Ratchet looked up in concern at their silence. Then, "You and Cobweb are ... spark-bonded?" Prowl asked, as delicately as he could.

Jazz was speechless, wondering that such an obviously young mech would already make such a commitment to another. And hide it so easily from Jazz's subtle probing! Starrunner had always referred to Cobweb as his friend, never partner or bond-mate or anything more telling. _If he kept that a secret, what else might he have hidden from me? He must be a consummate Decepticon!_

Swoop's optic-ridge furrowed in thought. He shifted his grip on his patient's hand, and patted the shoulder-tire encouragingly.

"Sir? Spark-bonded? No, I don't think so, Prowl-sir. We just ... know ... certain things. When something happens that affects one of our sparks, the other ... knows. I'm sorry. I- don't have better vocabulary to describe it. Cobweb has always been my friend, from the astrosecond I became aware. He has always known when I was truly, deeply afraid for my life, or affected drastically at all. And I've always known when he felt anything ... intensely." Red Alert's expression became introspective, as if Starrunner were remembering something with regret.

"D'you think that if I give you control, to talk to him, he'll recognize you and not shoot us?"

Red Alert's optics brightened and he leaned slightly toward Jazz. Starrunner said, "I know he will know me, Jazz-sir, and never fire."

-X-X-X-

Jazz was on-call that evening. He was more concerned for the evolution he planned to undertake the next day. Prowl was reading something at his desk in the office that was the anteroom to the quarters they now shared. Jazz went and sprawled in one of the chairs across from his friend. He didn't say anything, helmet leant against the chair back, arms hanging limply at the sides outside the frame of the chair.

Prowl continued to read whatever it was.

They stayed that way for a couple of breems, Jazz actually nervous about a mission of his own planning for the first time in memory worth accessing. He was about to say something, just to have something else to think about, when the tactician spoke up.

"If they are not spark-bonded," he said, "then there is a ninety-six percent probability that Starrunner is Cobweb's offspring. They could be part of a defunct or failed gestalt, but that possibility is slim."

"I dunno," Jazz folded his hands over his abdomen and settled more completely back into the seat. "I didn't think he was hiding anything from me. He's always come across as purely open an' honest." He shrugged. "Which would make him a very skilled Decepticon. He only refers to Cobweb as his friend, and that not often."

"Do you think he's lying?"

"Truly, I don't. But..." Jazz let his head fall back.

"I've been doing research on connections that affect our sparks. Gestalts that break up or fail occasionally result in long-term bonds among the remaining members. Those are usually painful, sometimes debilitating for the affected transformers, so I do not find that likely to be the answer. Ratchet would have noticed if he were in constant pain from such a casualty and it would be a simple answer to many questions we've both asked him. I agree with you: I really do not believe he lied about anything. He may be mistaken on any number of points, but he answers us with what he has. Ratchet should have noted a spark-bond in the extensive scans he has done on Starrunner: according to this," he gestured at the screen before him, "they show up as an erratic spark-energy reading on the applicable scans, as if one combined spark were splitting time between two forms across any distance. It's a violent flickering of the bonded sparks. Field-bond effects are limited to a physical range, so if he is certain that Cobweb knows he still lives at the distance of our base to theirs, that is also not the answer. If we rule out a spark-bond based on his word and Ratchet's silence, we are left to believe he is Cobweb's offspring and simply does not know it. He said Cobweb has been a matter of course in his life, his friend for his entire existence." Prowl paused, leaning on his elbows over the keyboard. "If Starrunner's creators did not tell him how his spark was formed, that part of Cobweb's spark went to creating his, Starrunner would not know it. With his tendency to believe what he is told, he would not suspect it. As one of the donating entities, Cobweb would know." Prowl paused, and met his colleague's gaze. "From what I know of Shockwave, Cobweb might not have been willing. You said Starrunner referred to Shockwave as 'Master'," Prowl used the Cybertronian word, implying as much slave-owner as teacher. "Did it seem to you that his association with Cobweb was more of a contemporary, a fellow 'Student'?" Again, Prowl used the Cybertronian, with connotations of 'uke' and 'slave' as well as 'learner'.

Jazz looked away and thought for a moment, reviewing most of his conversations with Starrunner. He looked back toward Prowl, who was still watching him. "Yeah," he said slowly, "I had Cobweb placed firmly as Starrunner's brother. Like the Dinos. I figured their sparks were unrelated but their current forms were from the same maker, powered up near the same time." Jazz let his faceplates convey the distaste he found at the thought, "You really think Shockwave would do that?" Prowl nodded solemnly. "It would explain why Starrunner doesn't have any memory from a past form if Shockwave created a brand new spark using part of Cobweb's. D'ya think he-? Who could do that to one of his own creations!" Jazz found the thought too repugnant to speak.

"There are probably only two who know the answer to that, Jazz. You might be able to talk to one of them tomorrow." Prowl paused and added, deadpan, "If he doesn't shoot you first."

Jazz laughed. "You're gettin' better at that. That was actually funny."

Prowl looked relieved. "Good. I was trying to lighten the mood." He allowed himself a pleased smile: application of humor was a skill he lacked, but wanted to cultivate.

-X-X-X-

The procedure to transfer Starrunner's spark chamber and processors to Jazz the next morning went smoothly. Ratchet set up partitions so that neither could access the other's mind directly and gave Jazz an override in case he needed to reclaim control of his form from Starrunner abruptly. Starrunner, as usual, was nothing but cooperative.

_I can't believe you are doing this, Jazz-sir,_ he sent to Jazz over their communication line.

_It's necessary,_ Jazz sent him, then said aloud, "Let's try this: Starrunner, you're up!" and he abdicated motor control to Starrunner, sharing all sensory input.

For a processor cycle, Jazz's body was completely still. Prime and Ratchet exchanged a concerned look. Prowl stared. Then Jazz moved, but the body language was Starrunner's, seeming somehow more open, innocently looking at his own hands with wonder.

"Well?" Ratchet prompted.

Jazz's melodic voice answered him uncertainly: "Yes, Ratchet-sir?"

Ratchet clapped him on the back, "Smart-aft," he said, and smiled.

Prowl powered his optics off and back on as if resetting them. Prime held his hand out to the mech before them and they awkwardly shared the fighter's handshake, hands to each other's forearms. "You two come back in one piece. That's an order."

Starrunner was halfway through his normal affirmative response when Jazz tested his emergency override and grinned back at his friends, "No problem. We'll be back before ya miss us!" _Sorry, Starrunner, had ta test the system, ya know?_ He released Prime's arm and hopped lightly off the repair table.

_Yessir, Jazz!_ was the enthusiastic response. Anything his hero did was fine with Starrunner.

Jazz took his leave of them, going to meet up with Skyfire before he left to take his watch on-orbit. _Now, don't ya be tellin' everything ya pick up from me,_ Jazz felt the need to admonish his passenger gently. He could tell that if he let Starrunner have his faceplates right then, he'd be grinning.

_You can scan my processors when you like, Jazz-sir. Delete anything you prefer I not know._

Jazz smiled to himself, knowing Starrunner could feel the expression on his faceplates, _I doubt that'll be necessary, just be discrete about things I can't hide from ya that ya know I'd rather not be known. I am trustin' ya here with precisely my life._ He paused as he made small talk with Skyfire before boarding. _You're gonna know more about me than anyone I've ever known._

Starrunner sounded knowing already when he responded, _Except for Prowl._

Jazz laughed aloud at that, and Skyfire asked him what was funny. _Yeah, except maybe Prowl,_ he allowed to Starrunner. "Just adaptin' to life as a multiple personality, Skyfire," he answered his transport. "It's no wonder gestalts tend to move slow, they've got five or six voices to listen to all at once."

The flight to his drop point was uneventful. Skyfire picked up no Decepticon activity whatsoever, not even any encrypted noise on the frequencies they used for their private conversations. At noon Ark-time, 0500 local-time, Jazz made his way into the underwater base.

He picked his way through the lower corridors. Being early in their nominal recharge time, he didn't expect to meet much traffic, and except for Starrunner, he believed he'd never been caught.

Starrunner had sense to remain silent and let Jazz do his job. That is, until Jazz did the thing that generally gave him away to Starrunner's senses. _That!_

Jazz held very still, a shadow in a camera blind-spot. _What?_

_That move you just made! The shift of your right foot, that's what I always picked up on first. Can't tell you why it got my attention, Jazz-sir, but every time you came through here, you did that and I picked it out._

Jazz processed for a tick, senses extended, sure there was no one else anywhere near. _Okay. I'll have to work on that. Is this the level to look for Cobweb?_

_Yessir he should be recharging now. Our quarters are past the others'._

Jazz slid past the open doors on that level that appeared to be storage rooms and work rooms for the less-destructive hobbies practiced by the Seekers. One showed an empty suite that was being cleaned out as if in preparation for occupancy. _For the new Seekers, do you think?_ he asked, and received a mental shrug in answer from his passenger. Three doors were closed. _Which one? Can you key it open?_

_The narrow one, Sir,_ Starrunner said definitively, and Jazz saw that one was clearly a storage room door, narrower than the other two doors by half a meter. _Yes, unless Cobweb got permission to change the code._

_He'd have to ask permission to change his own lock?_

_Of course, Sir, they're controlled from the main facility control center._

Jazz paused, overriding Starrunner's move to touch the key panel. _So, if you unlock the door, even if the code works, someone in the main control center will know it was opened, possibly know it wasn't Cobweb who opened it?_

_I suppose so, Jazz-sir, but that would require effort and someone other than Cobweb to believe I might come back._ Starrunner waited a tick, processing. He prompted Jazz to put his hand against the door panel and lean his more sensitive audio sensor against it. _He's not here anyway. Let's keep moving._

Jazz moved on quickly, skirting sensors and silently passing up the lift-shaft. _I heard nothing. There could have been a mech recharging in that room._

_If Cobweb's recharging alone, it's not there,_ Starrunner said definitively. _If he has a choice, Cobweb will only recharge with someone to watch over him. The only Cybertronian other than me that he even willingly talks to here, Sir, is Astrotrain. He could not fit in that room, even in several pieces._ Jazz did not know who he was talking about, so Starrunner sent him an image from when he over-flew the Triple-changer and Cobweb after debarking the transport who brought them from Cybertron. _If Cobweb must recharge without someone he trusts, I know every entry to his location will be energized, booby-trapped, somehow. As sensitive as they are, either your audio receptor or fingerpads would have detected it. Cobweb won't be taking chances._

Jazz filed the implications in that explanation away for later discussion. With Starrunner's guidance, he made his way to the level of the main workspaces. The place looked like the last time he was there. Only the mess made from his last sabotage effort had been cleaned up. Small projects, little weapons and test articles of various types occupied the tables of that room. The lack of change spoke of suspension of activity. _Astrotrain's shop's just down the hall,_ Starrunner offered hopefully.

_Let's go check it out._

They could not open that shop's door.

_We could wait to meet Cobweb here._

_With Astrotrain._ Jazz was not asking, and he was not inclined to try to get past a mech that large, this far from his escape route.

Starrunner's communication was disappointed; Jazz could tell he was very much looking forward to seeing his friend again. _Yessir. With Astrotrain._

_Where does Astrotrain recharge?_ Jazz asked.

_He shares a room with Blitzwing, the other Triple-changer._ Starrunner shared an image of that little-known individual with his host. _It's the forward compartment of the fifth deck._

_Forward?_

_This way,_ Starrunner offered, again guiding his direction if not his actual movements up the lift-shaft, through access panels that had to be removed and replaced carefully.

_We don't have a lot of time to get back out of here,_ Jazz noted. At the final portal, Jazz stopped beyond the range of its motion detector. _You're sure mechs that large recharge here?_ He had a moment of doubt. The Triple-changers' area was not as large as even one suite on the Seekers' level.

_Nigeria was two weeks ago yesterday, right?_ Starrunner asked, and received Jazz's affirmation. _So, two weeks ago, yes, the Triple-changers recharged here, together, probably taking turns keeping an optic energized. After what I..._ Starrunner trailed off guiltily, then resumed, _Cobweb should be with them since he's not in our quarters._

Jazz thought there was something Starrunner didn't want to admit he knew, but he was willing to let it slide. If Cobweb were the small mech in the image Starrunner offered of Astrotrain, and the Decepticons were as factious as he already knew they were... _No, Starrunner, I'm sorry, I can't let that go. What makes you think the Triple-changers, huge 'Cons, proud of their extra alt-mode, would accept Cobweb among them? Unless Cobweb's got more alt-modes than that Cooper._

Starrunner was silent. Jazz moved farther away from the door, finding a camera shadow that he thought suited him. _Cobweb ... found a way to make himself indispensable to Astrotrain. If Astrotrain wants to ensure his technician stays functional, he'll have brought him into the deal he has with Blitzwing._

Jazz's sensitive audios heard movement behind the portal to the forward section. He counted on his ability to become part of the landscape.

The door cycled open, "-a breem," a small black mech was saying apologetically in Cybertronian. Jazz recognized Cobweb from Starrunner's description. Something about him nagged at Jazz, but he thought he just reminded him strongly of Bumblebee: he was not many centimeters taller than 'Bee, only a tiny bit longer of limb. The door cycled shut behind the little Decepticon, who looked around the area suspiciously then headed for the lift. Passing within arm's reach of Jazz, he said clearly but at a very low decibel, "Follow me."

Jazz was taken aback. At Starrunner's excited prodding, he did as Cobweb said.

As he entered the lift, Cobweb looked at the camera and made a subtle gesture with one hand toward the right front corner of the box, and Jazz understood it was the blind spot. Cobweb leaned with his back to the camera so he could vocalize without watchers knowing. "Starrunner?"

Jazz allowed Starrunner to respond at a volume matching his friend's. "Cobweb! Number Four brought me. It's good to see you! Will you come with me?" Fluid, familiar Cybertronian, not the formal speech he had initially used with everyone.

"Starrunner!" Relief flickered across Cobweb's face. Jazz thought Shockwave must have been cutting corners: the poor mech had enough facial plating to be expressive but not enough to fully protect all the delicate lines and circuits inside his skull. The effect was an almost spectral appearance, unfinished or whittled-down. Looking at Cobweb, Jazz thought he learned more than he would have liked to know about Shockwave.

Starrunner was excited to see his friend. "Yes! They've been so welcoming and generous and..."

As Starrunner replied, happily extolling the Autobot welcome, Jazz thought it made perfect sense that his spark was created mostly from his friend, unwilling. Cobweb's form was clearly an experiment of Shockwave's design, more so than Starrunner's. Like Starrunner, Cobweb used little or no subspace. Shockwave, ever the advocate of ultimate efficiency, would not hesitate to split a spark destined for such a small frame. Inside his own processor, Jazz thought, _He probably used just enough of his own spark-energy - or even someone else's! - to avoid the twinning effect._ Cobweb's faction markings were odd. Jazz thought they were the same as Starrunner's had been: Prowl described them as black-on-black in his report on the Nigeria altercation. When Ratchet documented Starrunner's injuries, he said it looked as if someone tried to forcibly remove them, mangling the plating. Jazz saw that Cobweb's were really just outlines etched in his black finish; he expected Starrunner's had been the same. _He left their badges unfinished because he didn't want to waste the purple pigment on them. Worse, he made the symbols part of their plating, not badges at all!_ Jazz felt anger for both their sakes, unable to choose for themselves at any point.

The lift stopped and cycled open. Cobweb stepped out and Jazz reasserted control, silently following Cobweb. "Duck," Cobweb ordered, using another hand motion to direct Jazz behind him.

Jazz followed the instructions, tucking down behind Cobweb as his fingers hit the keypad. Jazz flowed smoothly into the room, even matching Cobweb's footfalls, working out that the camera in the shop faced the door to catch images of who came and went, not interested in the work being done. As soon as they passed the work table in the center of the room, Jazz stood up, off-camera.

Cobweb spun around and grabbed him firmly by the forearms. "What are you thinking?!" he hissed, optics white and snapping. "Number Four!"

Jazz had only seen anger, venom like this in one mech, one time he was captured during a raid on Cybertron. One of his captors, a big bot of Skyfire's build, had projected like this. He was taken aback. Starrunner was nonplussed: _We've frightened him,_ he sent to Jazz as an explanation.

Cobweb was still speaking, "You'll get Starrunner killed with you!"

Jazz responded, "He's desperate for you to come with us."

Cobweb flashed his optics once, negative response.

"Why not?" Jazz and Starrunner both wanted to know.

"The Triple-changers will stage a coup. Our leadership will change. You must leave." He paused. "Starrunner?"

Jazz passed his motor control to Starrunner. _Do you believe him?_

"Please, come with us," Starrunner put entreaty into his voice that Jazz didn't know his vocalizer could convey. "Even if they succeed, you'll never be safe here." _Yes. It is something he hoped to foment with Astrotrain,_ he answered Jazz.

Cobweb looked up into Jazz's visor; his expression said he wanted to believe it was Starrunner before him. His grip on the white forearms relaxed. "'Runner, there is no safe place with other Cybertronians. We're at war. The Autobots will never eradicate the Decepticons. As long as one who follows Megatron draws energon, there will be war. If they rebuild you, you will be destroyed again." Coolant leaked out around both the little mech's optics only to flow back under his plating farther down his face. Jazz was disturbed by the drastic change from rage to tears. Cobweb pulled, and Jazz knelt down. Cobweb looked resigned and very sad. He brushed his lip components against the front of the black helm as if he were giving a blessing. "Go. Make yourself happy as you can for as long as you can. I must get back to recharge." He made shooing motions with his hands, pushing them to stand up.

Jazz took control back and felt Starrunner despair. He noticed Cobweb pick up a chemical dispenser before they left the shop. He tried to distract Starrunner with small talk: _You liked __Alien__ because the hero's voice reminds you of Cobweb's._

They left the shop in the reverse of their entry, Jazz crouching this time before the smaller mech, preceding him out to avoid the camera watching the inside of the doorway. Starrunner sent him a subdued answer: _I suppose so, Jazz-sir._

Back in the lift, Cobweb pushed two buttons, as if it were an accident. "After my level, the lift will continue to the lowest. Exit in a crouch, on the left. Stay to the wall for four meters to pass the last camera." Before the lift doors opened, he cast one more look at Jazz. Jazz knew Starrunner wanted control but was not comfortable giving it in that moment. He bid the little mech a silent good-bye, then turned his head to avert his optics, not wanting Starrunner to see what he suspected Cobweb was going to do en route to the room he shared with the Triple-changers.

_I know about his habit, Jazz-sir,_ Starrunner explained sadly. _He's always taken too much of that catalyst. It may be part of why he won't leave._

_It explains the extreme emotion-swing we saw. He must've been comin' down._

The lift stopped at the lowest level and Jazz left it in a crouch, intent on keeping to the left wall. He nearly ran over a Casseticon not a meter from the lift. Instinctively, he grasped the small mech's shoulders to keep him from falling over, both primarily concerned with remaining invisible to the cameras. _Rumble._ Starrunner provided his name.

"You! Lemme go! I gotta make the lift!" Rumble hissed desperately, clearly afraid of consequences if he were caught, by someone not Jazz. Neither drew a weapon. "I'm not here, I never saw ya here! Lemme go!" The lift doors started to close. Jazz threw the little 'Con through them. "Thanks," he spat from the same spot Jazz rode down in, the blind spot.

_There's more traffic the cameras don't see than do,_ he mused.

_Don't doubt it, Sir,_ Starrunner confirmed, _and my wings made it impossible for me to participate. It's as if the blind spots are designed for Cybertronians Cobweb's size._

_Casseticons,_ Jazz concluded, leaving the last inhabitable area before his exit.

_Yessir, Casseticons._

-X-X-X-

Wheeljack, as officer on duty that night, was roused from recharge by Cliffjumper, on communications watch. Only partially conscious of the action, he stood at the terminal in his quarters and answered the call. "Jazz is back," he heard Cliffjumper but did not immediately reply. Cliffjumper continued, "Wheeljack? Did you hear me, I said 'Jazz is back'."

"Yep, Cliffjumper, I heard you. Thank you for letting me know. Is he okay?"

A pause during which Wheeljack assumed Cliffjumper relayed the question to Seaspray, playing the vehicle for Jazz's extraction. Then Jazz's voice came through, relayed from the radio connection: -:-Yeah, 'Jack, I'm fine! Starrunner was a big help this trip. Could ya rouse Ratchet for me, though? I'm not ready to be a gestalt!-:-

"Sure thing," Wheeljack said, "what is your ETA?"

-:-Oh-fourrr-hundrred,-:- Seaspray's voice came through.

Checking his internal clock, Wheeljack set an alarm for fifteen minutes before that. "I'll make sure he's ready for you in the repair bay when you get here."

-X-X-X-

Everyone wanted to know what Jazz learned on his mission into the Nemesis with Starrunner. Figuring they could wait a couple of hours, his first stop was medical to have Starrunner's spark chamber and processors removed. Ratchet met him there despite the early hour. "Much as I enjoyed the company, I'm not equipped to be a gestalt. Havin' multiple personalities ain't for me!" he told the CMO.

Starrunner's adoration of his hero was not diminished by knowing all he now did, but he agreed it would be better to have that knowledge at a distance, separated by optics and sensors. _I'm happy to have helped, Jazz-sir,_ he sent as Ratchet began the shut-down sequence.

_Could not've done it without ya. See ya soon._


	5. Finding the Center

Starrunner's Fifth Installment

Title: _Finding the Center_

Sequel to _Approaching the Origin_ in series with _Skimming the Surface_, _Under the Plating_, and _Down to the Casing_.

Universe: loosely G1 cartoon. Makes reference to the episode _Triple Take Over_ and the series of stories that begins with _Anything You Like_. Overlaps the events of _Focus of the Sun_.

Rated: PG

Pairing: None in the main storyline, but you may imagine Jazz/Prowl in the background, and Astrotrain/Cobweb if you hold your mouth right.

Author's Notes: Recognizable Characters/Names belong to Hasbro/Takara/IDW while Starrunner and Cobweb are my very own. 13100 words.

-:-radio transmission-:-

* * *

Jazz left medical feeling lighter, no longer entertaining any doubts about the young mech who might always think of him as 'Number Four'. He went straight to the executive offices and announced his arrival by tapping lightly on Prowl's door before stepping across the corridor to Ironhide who waved him in to speak to Prime. Prowl appeared behind him as Ironhide shut the outer door. Jazz took one chair before Prime's desk and Prowl took the other.

Optimus smiled behind the battle mask. "I hear the life of a gestalt takes some getting used to."

Jazz could not allow the opportunity to pass, he had to poke at Prime and Prowl. He expertly aped Starrunner's manner and speech pattern, "Yessir, Lord Prime-sir, it is very different."

They stiffened. Prowl drew in air sharply. Prime half stood up behind his desk, body language between a threat and a question. Ironhide spoke up quickly from his own desk where he was preparing to take notes for the official report. "Now Jazz, that really ain't funny."

Jazz laughed his own laugh and clapped the XO on the back. "Oh," he laughed, "yes it is 'Hide," more laughter, "you shoulda seen Prowl's face! Priceless." He cycled air amusedly and patted Prowl's shoulder. "Sorry, man, I couldn't resist. I left Starrunner in medical with Ratchet, really. I just had ta-"

"Never do that again," Prowl said flatly.

Optimus had eased back into his desk, smiling despite himself. "That is enough, Jazz. You really can't mimic Starrunner's body language, anyway. You weren't that impressionable the moment you were sparked."

Jazz resigned himself to make his report and answer their questions about the mission. By the time they were done, he was feeling the long hours of the mission and the strain powering two sets of processors and maintaining two spark chambers had put on him.

"Is there any need to record what I said so formally?" Jazz asked a little sharply when Ironhide read the summary back to them. "I mean, yeah, Starrunner'll make a great addition to the Ark but we already knew that." He hadn't thought there was any question remaining of how they would welcome Starrunner. He was conscious of a skeptical feeling in the room and resolved to alleviate it. Jazz forced himself to relax and resume his normal fluid posture, leaning casually back in his chair. He had believed there was no more need to sell the idea to Prowl and Prime. He smiled a winning smile and turned his attention to the XO beside him: "He even pointed out exactly what it was I did that got his attention in the first place."

Prowl remained impassive.

"He took you to one of his creators," Prime said thoughtfully, "whom he recognizes only as a friend. Who, he says, has been with him since he became aware. Yet you are convinced he doesn't even know Cobweb's a femme?"

Jazz heard the questioning tone and turned to answer the commander. "Yeah, Prime, that's true. I don't think he'd know to make a distinction if he met Elita One herself. Add to that, Cobweb's physically more like Bumblebee or Cliffjumper than Elita or Firestar. And I get the impression Cobweb doesn't talk much, even to Starrunner, keeping the distinction of her vocalizer from those who know enough to listen. The way Starrunner described Shockwave, he probably didn't even use pronouns himself or teach Starrunner to use any language of gender. Every bit of Starrunner's socialization was by Cobweb, and that not extensive." Prime was scowling; Prowl was positively stiff in the chair beside him. Jazz tried to lighten the mood: "Oh, c'mon, if you were the only female in the Decepticon base, or even here with us, would you draw attention to that fact if you didn't have to?" He grinned suggestively. "I mean, if it were known, she'd be popular but let's face it, all the attention would get old pretty quick especially with the mechs who don't know how to take 'no' for an answer. We've got a few like that in our ranks, so imagine what it'd be like for her!" Ironhide gave a ghost of a laugh and Prime's expression softened a bit: at least they were listening.

Prowl was calculating. "Ratchet and I spoke at some length while you were away. Starrunner is old enough that he should not still be bound to any of his creators. That was a puzzle to Ratchet: his only possible explanation was that Cobweb must be a female who resorted to heavy catalyst use, post-creation event. Even a mech Skyfire's size could not supply enough spark-energy to remain tied to a creation bigger than a turbofox this long and still function, catalyst or no. As it is, use of the catalyst indicates a lack of proper treatment after a creation. It was common at times even among us. The catalyst in the immediate term mimics recovery of spark energy, but it has damaging side-effects, mainly preventing true recovery of the donor's spark and therefore prolonging the period of connection to the offspring. The connection can be prolonged indefinitely. Your observance of Cobweb's behavior explains Starrunner's connection to her, and concerns me further for Starrunner's sake. Cobweb chose to remain in the Decepticon camp, and she has to be dependent on the catalyst after this much time. As long as Cobweb's spark is reduced Starrunner is compromised."

Prime picked up his second's train of thought. Clearly, the two of them had discussed it before Jazz returned. "Even if she began taking the catalyst in all innocence, just to alleviate the pain, Starrunner is more closely attached to her than he should be. He's more closely attached to a Decepticon than we can ev-"

Jazz had heard enough. He interrupted, "I was in their camp and Cobweb did nothing against me, just like he said." Gauging their body language and words, he exerted all the charisma he could, thinking they were underestimating Starrunner. He tried to find the intensity Starrunner had wrung from his vocalizer when he pled with Cobweb to join them: "Starrunner is as honest as any of us! I trusted him with my life an-"

The scowl returned to Prime's optics above his mask at having his train of thought derailed. He forced himself to relax a bit and held up a hand to still Jazz's protest. Jazz was making assumptions, and leapt to the wrong conclusion. Optimus cut back in. "Jazz. Give us some credit! We are not suggesting Starrunner be turned out, or treated as a prisoner. I do not doubt his spirit: he has demonstrated a selflessness that anyone would do well to emulate. He is more closely attached to a Decepticon than we can ever appreciate, being from Vector Sigma." He drummed his fingers on the desktop briefly, looking from Jazz to Prowl and back. "As difficult as it might have been to take in two, packed as tightly as we are, here and in New York, for his sake I do wish you could have brought Cobweb with you. Females are so few; I would feel better to know she was not within Megatron's reach."

They sat quietly a moment, each contemplating his own opinion of the implications in that statement.

Prowl changed the topic of conversation: "Did Cobweb give you any indication of the form the mutiny might take? Or the timeline?"

Jazz flashed his optics once, and shook his head in the local gesture of negation. "Nothing more. She seemed to believe it'll happen soon."

"We'd best be ready then," Prowl said, "and keep track of their movements from a safe distance."

Jazz excused himself, pleading his need to catch some energon and recharge: powering two sets of processors and maintaining two sparks for nearly a full day while exerting himself had drained his reserves. Prowl and Prime settled in to a dismal discussion of what would have happened had Starscream not called Devastator to retreat.

"Ratchet saved my life," Prowl was saying as the inner door cycled closed, "the probability of my survival was negligible and no-" the seal and the fact that Jazz didn't want to hear more separated him from that assessment.

"If anyone looks for me," he said to Ironhide as he stepped out of the suite, "tell 'em I went lookin' for Primus in a puddle."

"Will do, Jazz," Ironhide agreed, adding to himself, "looks like you need more'n a puddle o' energon to recover from that."

Prowl and Optimus conferred well into the morning, until Prowl decided he needed to spend more time analyzing their resources. He went back to his own office to work on an affordable way to counter Devastator.

Ironhide guessed his leader needed more time to think about their tactical state, too, and sent an unobtrusive text message to Optimus's console before he left for his regular maintenance appointment with Ratchet: _Going to Medical - routine - back by 1200._

Optimus saw it, and heard the outer door open and close. Alone, he sat in silent contemplation for several breems, rehashing the conversations he'd had with his second in command in the days since that pitched battle; more accurately, in the few days since Prowl's repair. _Megatron... Triple-changers... Devastator and improved strategic planning... Increased air power... it all adds up to more significant damage done, human collateral and Autobot intentional... On top of that, we have found a defector, a femme, and a mutiny._

A half hour later, he followed Ironhide.

As he let himself into the medics' domain, Optimus was surprised to see Ratchet but not Ironhide. Ratchet looked at him quizzically. Briefly, he forgot that he wasn't there merely to look for his friend. "Is everything all right, Ratchet? Ironhide said he was coming down here to see you."

"'Hide's in back," Ratchet answered him, then raised his voice as he returned his attention to the circuit board he was building. "Swoop! If he's still arguing about the weight, go ahead and use the oil he likes this time." He returned briefly to a conversational tone, "He'll just have to come back that much sooner if the lube's not optimal," before trailing off with a mumbled derogatory comment.

Optimus understood that Ratchet was mostly talking to himself and so didn't answer. He slowly moved to stand near the repair table he knew held the stably energized spark and processors of Ratchet's newest pet project. He could just catch the conversation between Ironhide and Swoop: the patient groused that heavier oil lasted longer and the medic-in-training explained that there was such a thing as too high a weight and viscosity. Obviously, Ratchet was tired of arguing with Ironhide and had delegated his periodic visits to his protégé.

_Ratchet and Ironhide must be like the unstoppable force encountering the immovable object when they argue,_ Optimus thought, glad his mask hid his smile that was at his friends' expense, deciding to wait to begin his conversation with Ratchet until Ironhide came out. He returned his attention to the collection of parts before him.

Swoop ushered Ironhide back into the main work area.

"Optimus," Ironhide acknowledged him, sitting on a repair table as Swoop prepared to get to work. Optimus left off contemplating mortality to look up; he noticed the container the Dinobot brought with him wasn't quite the heaviest oil they had, but it was close. Maybe Swoop had pushed a compromise, after all.

"Ironhide," Optimus nodded, "Swoop, I hope he isn't being overly difficult?" He stepped closer to speak with them.

Swoop glanced his way. "Awk! No, Prime, him Ironhide perfectly difficult," he smiled reprovingly at his patient. "Practice make perfect," he quipped lightly, "and him have lots of practice."

Optimus was glad of the battle mask: Ironhide didn't need to know how apt he found that assessment of him.

Ratchet chuckled, having no such compulsion on Ironhide's behalf.

Swoop continued, "Maybe you Prime talking help him Ironhide hold still."

Ironhide, giving Swoop a good-natured dirty look - Primus knew he dished out enough teasing, he could take his share - turned his attention to Optimus, obediently holding the rest of his frame as still as possible. "Is everythin' all right, Optimus?"

Swoop worked smoothly while Ironhide and Prime talked about Jazz's report. Optimus had a nagging suspicion that Megatron's absence from their recent battlefields was somehow connected to Devastator's suddenly more purposeful behavior. "What Jazz didn't find out was whose tactics they follow when Megatron's not on the scene. Was it Soundwave's direction that Devastator look first at Prowl, then me? Or was it Starscream's, or even worse, his own? The last thing we need is a bigger threat from that gestalt."

Ironhide processed for a moment, trying not to flinch as Swoop removed some oxides. Slowly, he answered his friend's concerns. "It seems to me that what we need is ta fight fire with fire: build a gestalt or two ta counter Devastator. Omega's big enough but he's nearly as old as me, and less upgradable. He was built for defense durin' peace time, Optimus, not for the hard fightin' we see, and not for opponents as big as him. Heh, when he was built, Guardians were the biggest machines ever designed. Devastator may be less massive than him, but he's more wily, more agile, faster, an' tougher. And we don't dare send Omega out to a battle far from the Ark: we'd never be able to haul him home if he're damaged even as much as he was last week."

While Ironhide spoke, Optimus resumed his self-guided tour of the med-bay, slowly making a circuit. He stood for a moment over the table still occupied by Red Alert, wondering briefly if the security director's new processors would really help him, despite the extensive tests proceeding somewhere in the repair bay. He noticed Ratchet watching him openly when he got to a table with what appeared to be a hand and forearm in progress. _Black matte finish,_ he noted, _I'm not supposed to see that._ He ended up in front of the bank of spark stabilization units; he counted sixteen unidentified sparks. As Ironhide's commentary on Omega Supreme versus Devastator wound down, Optimus squarely met the medic's optics. "What do you think, Ratchet?"

Ratchet didn't answer immediately, seeming to find the question a deep one.

Optimus spoke again. "Devastator concerns me greatly. Our lack of counters to him concerns me greatly. Our lack of medical personnel concerns me greatly: two is not enough."

Swoop snapped his head up to look at him at that, and looked appropriately conscious of the responsibility and the faith Optimus assigned him in that reference.

"We need a department full." Optimus paused, and scanned the room, finding the resolution to each of those concerns in the bank of softly-humming stasis lockers to which his gaze returned.

Ratchet and Swoop spoke at once: a soft squawk and deeply respectful "Thank you Prime," from the novice and a sharp "With whom do you propose I staff a department?" from the expert.

He lifted his hand to indicate the section of the wall that held the answer in carefully controlled fields, "With them," he said simply. He knew he had everyone's full attention. He looked levelly at Ratchet, "Speed up Swoop's training, building the new form for Starrunner. We know him now, and can be confident he'll be nothing but grateful and cooperative when you power him up, despite the problems the new form's bound to have when he becomes aware in it." He noticed Swoop's face fall and said, "No offense Swoop, but you can't tell me you don't know that no new build ever worked right the first time. Even with their experience, Ratchet and Wheeljack didn't give any of you Dinobots perfect functions, first try."

Ironhide nodded sagely, and Swoop looked from one to the other, perking up as he realized it wasn't anything particular to him that made Prime certain of his prediction.

Optimus continued addressing Ratchet, "While Swoop and Starrunner work out the details of that new body, Perceptor and Wheeljack can work full time with you to design a gestalt team to serve as medics and builders individually, as search and rescue vehicles in their alternate modes, and I want a serious opponent for Devastator in their combiner form."

"I have one problem with that idea, Optimus," Ratchet said, fingers still and expression dark. "How do we, in good conscience, tie five or six sparks so closely together, with no way to know how they'll get along? They might end up fragging each other."

"They only have to get along when they combine." Optimus felt less certain, not having thought of that himself, but didn't waver. "Like any team we have, they'll just have to be professional when they work together, when they train, when they fight Decepticons, personal feelings notwithstanding."

"Now Prime," Ratchet countered, "even assuming three known hot-heads turned up in the first batch Wheeljack chose," he referred to Grimlock, Slag and Snarl's sparks, which he and Ironhide were convinced they recognized from their previous lives, "there are bound to be others in the lot. They were Autobots, yes, but there are a couple I remember clearly who might make Slag look like Bumblebee, or Swoop here, and that was without possibly remembering dying. Fraggit, there might even be a 'Con spark or two in those chambers - we saved every spark we could that survived the crash, even when we couldn't identify the body. What will it do to the others involved if we build them up as a combiner team with one of those?"

Optimus was about to answer when Ironhide slowly drawled what he was thinking: "What'll it do to us if we don't? We almost lost Prowl because all we can do right now is slow Devastator down, an' Prime was next on his list."

-X-X-X-

On console that evening, Sunstreaker received the report from Cosmos: Megatron and Starscream were flying at full speed on an arc that would take them directly over the Pacific Ocean into Canada if they didn't change course for the Autobot base. He relayed that to the officer on duty, Prowl, who smiled tightly. Sunstreaker didn't know what to make of that: it was as strange to him as what he had to report next. "They're being followed by two big mechs we've never seen before, in root mode, far enough behind that the leaders may not know it." _Fraggin' evil, even to each other._

"Thank you, Sunstreaker."

_You ought to be at least a little bit interested,_ Sunstreaker thought, feeling himself scowl more deeply at what he perceived as Prowl's lack of concern. "This is the first time we've seen the Slag Maker out in over a month."

"I am aware of that. Send me their coordinates when they land or engage." Prowl cut the connection.

Later, at the midnight turnover, Blaster was full of gossip as he came on duty. He barely acknowledged Sunstreaker's off-going report that Megatron, Starscream, and two mechs, allegedly Triple-changers, had landed on the outskirts of Hamilton, Ontario and disappeared from their tracking methods; Powerglide had been dispatched from the New York City base to investigate. Blaster was more interested in the latest intel concerning the spy in the med bay.

"'Comber was cleaning the galley when Blue and Red," by whom he meant Optimus Prime and Ironhide, "drove through for a drink." He dropped his voice under the pretense that what he had to say was for Sunstreaker's audios only, although they both knew everyone else in the area for turnover could easily hear him. "Doc's bringing Double-oh Seven back for an encore. Officially sanctioned. What're we gonna do, use him for target practice? That's what he'll be whenever the 'Cons see him! What good can he be to us now? His double-agent days are through," he declared, referring to the deduction reached by those not in a position to know, who believed that their defector - now nicknamed Double-oh Seven for James Bond - was an Autobot spy left behind in deep cover on Cybertron when the Ark departed.

Sunstreaker fairly growled an answer, "He knows more about their tactics and that slag than anyone else." Gratitude and resentment mixed, and the more he learned about Star- _What was the rest of his name?_ - the more curious and respectful he felt, but the novelty of those two things made him more resentful. _What am I supposed to say to him if they do manage to rebuild him? 'Hey, I campaigned to get you new plating, thanks for saving mine'? Right. Swallowing my pride is just blowing exhaust compared to what he did. And frag if he didn't even think about it. He just flew right into the fight, no weapon... Wish I could remember his name._

Blaster prattled on about something Warpath had done earlier in the day. Sunstreaker glared at him a little and declared himself relieved of duty, thinking, _You didn't even catch his name, did you? And I can't fraggin' ask, and even Jazz might not know his real one._

He registered that Blaster narrowed his optics at him, but left anyway. "Keep watching Hamilton," he ground out harshly as he left, "whatever the Pit's gonna go down, it'll start there."

-X-X-X-

There was no further Decepticon movement that night or the following day. Powerglide saw nothing on his many surveys of the region, not in the city, its suburbs, or even the surrounding states. On the second day after their sighting of Megatron, Sideswipe had the PM stint on comm duty. Sunstreaker joined him after target practice got boring and he couldn't find any more scratches to polish out of his finish. They put their heads together, and found feeds of local news programs from the Hamilton area. A brief report on train schedule problems caught their attention.

"Hey, bro'?" Sideswipe said, as the topic shifted from that particular shipping complaint to the indiscretion of a small-time politician. "Wasn't one of the Triple-changers supposed to be a train?"

"Yeah, I think so," Sunstreaker answered, pulling up an image of the city, and filtering it for railroad tracks. "Spacetrain or some slag like that."

Sideswipe called the officer of the day in his quarters; tonight it was Jazz. As the console chirped for attention, he commented on the recent change of living arrangements: "I wonder if Jazz's move had anything to do with Double-oh Seven?" Sideswipe had coined that reference, because it was his assertion that if he had to infiltrate the Decepticon ranks, he would not use his real name, so it stood to reason that 'Starrunner' was just an alias.

"According to Blaster, everything is because of Double-oh Seven," Sunstreaker rumbled.

"You haven't forgiven him yet, have ya, Sunny?" Sideswipe asked, meaning to try to get his twin to talk about Starrunner, since he knew that little-known individual was prying on Sunstreaker's mind of late, forcing him to come to grips with being saved by a stranger.

Sunstreaker looked up to find Sideswipe looking at him too seriously for comfort. He mistook his brother's intention, defaulting to an affront paid him by Blaster, months past. _Fragger,_ he thought, and meant both his brother and the similarly finished communication lead. Jazz answered the summons at that moment, sparing him from having to answer the question.

"What's up, Sides?" Jazz asked quietly. It was the day-shift recharge period, so he was being considerate of his new roommate and toning down his usual boisterousness.

"Amtrak and Northern Pacific report delays on their routes leading through Hamilton, Jazz," Sideswipe explained.

"And there are two separate reports of explosions from inside the Tiger-Cats stadium," Sunstreaker added, skimming reports on a conspiracy forum. "Its reported to be defended by a tank of unknown make. Some say the expended shells found were from an alien warship, and debunkers say they look just like mortars from a Japanese maker."

Jazz processed a few cycles. "Those theories aren't mutually exclusive. Could be Astrotrain and Blitzwing. I'll be there in a tick."

Sideswipe turned to his brother. "Alien warship? Really, bro'? That sounds like something out of Star Trek."

"Who do you think writes these reports? Humans who inhale that exhaust."

Sideswipe shrugged one shoulder, "Guess so." They were quiet a moment. "We live in an alien warship, huh?"

"Nah," Sunstreaker said as Jazz strode in, "we live in an alien transport ship. Not the same."

"Isn't this some of your off-duty time, Sunshine?" Jazz asked, leaning over Sunstreaker to make it clear he was interested in the map he had pulled up.

"Don't fraggin' call me that."

Jazz ignored the admonition. "Hail Cosmos, Sides," he directed softly, processing. "He's got some new coordinates to monitor."

Reports of strange events in that area grew more frequent over the next several hours. Further shipping delays seemed to confirm problems in the rail lines and air space around Hamilton. The Tiger-Cats head coach was reported missing, last seen by one of his players after the others left practice, but that player's account was deemed hysterical and he was subjected to psychiatric evaluation. The press was not allowed to question him; the Autobots who stood comm duty skimmed blogs and monitored chat rooms, concluding that the Decepticons were still there but mostly staying out of sight somehow.

Prowl's federal contacts had the city evacuated. Jazz worked with the White House and Prime Minister's press offices to explain the need to evacuate without reference to a war between alien robots and a mutiny within the hostile faction: a serious terrorist bombing threat was fabricated.

They got the populace out just in time. The following morning Cosmos reported Cybertronian energy signals in the vicinity of a highway interchange south of the city. Prowl declared that the threshold for direct intervention had been reached. Optimus agreed that he should lead a small group to investigate, "Quietly. Preferably without engaging the enemy."

Bluestreak and Prowl left the Ark and sped over interstates at speeds local law enforcement could neither credit nor match; each state en route hailed Prowl over radio, assuming he was chasing the other Datsun. Lights and sirens going to get civilians to give way, he thanked each trooper and dispatcher politely but told them he was escorting the other vehicle on federal authority. When they arrived in upstate New York, they slowed down in an attempt to avoid Constructicon notice. Skids and Tracks met them over a hundred miles outside the city. Prowl reported their rendezvous and their plan to quickly investigate the suspicious new construction.

Prowl failed to check in at the appointed interval. Optimus, Jazz, Mirage and Trailbreaker developed a plan to follow them into the fray. None of Prowl's team responded to hails from orbit. Fearing the worst with Devastator involved, Prime sent Hoist and Smokescreen out from the New York base to go look for them. Powerglide overflew the strange edifice in the meantime, finding there a freeway maze that had not even been scarred for when he was sent to look for Decepticon movement only four days earlier. Stationary but erratic spark-energy readings appeared atop the thing.

Powerglide located the missing bots, not believing his own scans until he clearly made out an Oregon state symbol on a bit of black enamel built into what looked like a Constructicon-sized chair. With Hoist and Smokescreen's help he rescued the severely damaged and contorted mechs from what was clearly intended to become a Constructicon stronghold. Thankful none of them were conscious, they hauled the first casualties to the eastern base for triage.

Somehow the Decepticons flooded the city, literally flushing the remaining locals from their homes and offices. The Autobots went back in to rescue all they could. Trailbreaker used his force fields to push the water out of town, down storm drains and over the streets into the river; the others scoured the area for movement.

"What's really goin' on is anyone's guess," Ironhide remarked at one point, treading water with Optimus and trying to save a few more humans who had ignored the evacuation order.

Cosmos reported Megatron's signature over the industrial rail lines of Hamilton along with increased Seeker activity: apparently the reinforcements from Cybertron had arrived. Where he had been catching glimpses of Seekers in twos and threes, and told to assume they were only the well-known trio, with Megatron's reappearance, they were all in the air at the same time: three F-15s and three aircraft of blatant Cybertronian design.

Optimus Prime responded, and boarded Skyfire himself as part of the third expedition.

Skyfire dropped that load off, then picked up the injured from Smokescreen's watch and sprinted for Oregon.

In Hamilton, at the National Steel Car train yard monitoring station, Optimus encountered Megatron. "Incinerating you is of no interest to me," he goaded his nemesis, "I'm looking for the leaders of the Decepticons!"

Megatron not only allowed Optimus to roll away from that altercation without a real fight but promptly disappeared, presumably carried by various minions to mask his whereabouts. How he maintained the service of all six Seekers was a mystery to the Autobots, who had fully expected them to be the source of the mutiny and led by Starscream. Starscream looked for all the universe as if he were thoroughly cowed by Megatron, bowing and scraping in his wake more than ever. The Triple-changers, if they had been in league against the Slag Maker, were clearly not coordinating their efforts, or taking up for each other. Stranger still, Blitzwing appeared to be colluding with Devastator.

Optimus deemed it enough to monitor the situation and stay out of it, judging it as sufficient that they had retrieved their missing scouts and minimized human casualties.

It took Trailbreaker most of a day to sweep the water away. Steering the water out into the lake in the pre-dawn light, he discovered a drowned Cybertronian grill-down at the edge of deeper water. Having an automotive alt-mode and no distinguishable badging, he assumed the tiny car was a Minibot he merely didn't recognize. He radioed that data to the Ark, adding -:-I don't know who he is but I'm bringing him in.-:-

A skirmish at the rendezvous point led Skyfire to depart the area with only the off-line stranger. Trailbreaker insisted he go immediately, even briefly holding a force field between Skyfire and their attacker to buy him the time to get to a good distance. Not knowing how long he'd been off-line, Skyfire agreed to deliver the damaged mech to Ratchet back at the Ark as soon as possible.

The plating of the tiny car was essentially in place, but all its glass was broken and the entire interior soaked with water. A cursory scan confirmed Trailbreaker's assertion that it was a Cybertronian. He had clearly been caught in the flooding and completely submerged, tossed about by the water amid other large debris, judging from the gouges and dents.

"All his wiring's been drenched," Ratchet muttered, only half to the mechs around him, as he assessed the stranger in Skyfire's cargo area cursorily, "I'll have to check every bit of it for shorting."

Mirage joined him in Skyfire's cargo bay, always a bit squeamish about boarding a sentient being. He was displeased to be left second-in-command of the Ark, but Prowl had designated him to cover the Executive Officer duties whenever he was unavailable, which meant running the base now fell to him whenever both Prowl and Optimus Prime were absent. Jazz was willing to take the reins as acting commander for Optimus Prime, but laid anything remotely administrative on Mirage. Personnel issues short of mutiny were all Mirage's to handle, as far as Jazz was concerned. So, Mirage dutifully met Skyfire with Ratchet, and stayed as far out of Ratchet's business as possible while still feeling properly supervisory.

"You need some attention, yourself, Skyfire," the chief medical officer said to the transport as he lifted the unconscious transformer from Skyfire's deck. "How in the Pit did you get him in here by yourself?"

"I did not. Trailbreaker loaded him. A new Seeker was bearing down on us, and Trailbreaker tossed this little one in and laid down a covering fire so I could get airborne and return." Skyfire watched Swoop accept the sodden and sorely damaged mechanoid from Ratchet with more care than he would have credited many an Autobot, let alone a Dinobot, and run into the Ark. "Who is he?"

"Not one of ours," Mirage scowled, processing as he considered preventing Swoop taking the strange mech to the repair bay. "Ratchet, when he is stable, please keep him off-line until Jazz and I get there," he said slowly as he followed the same path Swoop had taken. Mirage turned to go find Jazz and force an opinion from him on this particular matter.

The CMO puzzled over that direction: Autobots had joined them from other details before but Prime always expected them, told at least his officers about them beforehand so arrangements could be made to properly welcome brothers-in-arms. _Mirage hasn't heard of this one either,_ he mused, _Why keep him secret? And why send him into that Decepticon mess right away?_

In the med bay, Ratchet continued his assessment. There were no blaster marks on him, no injuries that could not be explained by water and impacts with large objects. His tires were shredded, which appeared to have happened when he skidded across Skyfire's deck plates with his wheels - and assumedly everything else - locked up.

A few hours later, Ratchet was confident he could bring the little black transformer online. He sent Mirage a text message to that effect.

One of his diagnostic scans revealed a bit of data he thought explained the identity of this patient, but he wanted Jazz to confirm.

Less than a breem passed before Mirage and Jazz stood over the repair table on which the battered car was parked. "Is this who I think it is?" Jazz asked, thinking he did not have the reserves to deal with any more unusual Decepticon behavior right then. He looked around the repair bay. They were certainly not recovered yet from the altercation with the Constructicons less than two days past. Tracks was aware but sedated, missing only a few key stretches of plating but also clearly missing the structure beneath it, bent and cracked as it had been in the steam-rolling he suffered. He was just conscious enough to watch suspiciously as Swoop worked to recondition a piece of cobalt plating. Prowl was still off-line and much of his plating was removed; a fan blew filtered, conditioned air over him to keep dust away and maintain his temperature uniformly. Bluestreak and Skids were mostly intact, and appeared to be recharging normally, dents and gouges still awaiting attention after the more serious cases were better addressed.

"Jazz?" Mirage prodded, turning his gaze back to the only other mech in the room who was neither a patient nor medic. Jazz slowly moved his head to look at Mirage. "Who do you think this is?"

Jazz looked thoughtfully at the subject of Mirage's concern. "I think it is Starrunner's friend, Cobweb. Definitely small enough, and what Trailbreaker described could be that Mini Cooper: they have a boxy frame like that. It's hard to tell for certain with the patch-work look goin' on and parts missing. I only ever saw Cobweb in root mode, and Starrunner's image he offered for scaling Astrotrain was taken from a few thousand feet up."

Ratchet walked up to them with four tires and a handful of netted sensor wire. "She is small enough, Jazz, and I think the Cooper is what we're seeing."

Every optic in the room that had a functioning audio receiver and processor associated with it turned to the medic.

"Excuse me, Ratchet," Tracks spoke up, "I did not hear you clearly. Repeat that, please."

Jazz wished he had the energy to laugh at Mirage, Tracks and Swoop. Mirage blanked his expression, out of the loop on that front since the night he and Bluestreak found Starrunner on the road. Tracks scowled as if fighting his own processor over Ratchet's word-choice; Swoop smiled brightly and set the piece of Corvette down gently to join them in looking curiously at the stranger.

Ratchet laughed. "Your audios are fine, Tracks. Your processor maybe a little fragged, but that doesn't change the fact that this little transformer has as much spark-energy as a platoon of mechs her size. Her meiotronic ratio is well above the threshold, definitely a femme." He deftly installed the basis of Cybertronian neural connections in one of the tires and prepped it for installation. "Her form is constructed in a style similar to Starrunner's: same design transformation cogs, patterns of seams and connections, no significant subspace. They are products of the same designer."

Tracks's scowl deepened, not knowing who Starrunner was to be similar to this Cobweb.

A passive monitor nearby chirped. Jazz and Mirage startled slightly, both jumpy from lack of recharge and worry over the injured and the second and third waves out in the field. Swoop pressed the button to acknowledge the alarm and silence it. He looked brightly at his mentor and chirped. "She come on-line soon."

Ratchet turned his personal scans on his newest patient. "Yes - that reminds me Swoop - the higher a bot's spark-energy-to-mass ratio, the faster internal repairs are made. Since none of her primary neural net was broken, there won't be a lot for us to do now except recondition her plating." He absently made optic contact with his student, then turned an almost accusing look on Jazz. "Should I let her power back up?"

Swoop went back to work on Tracks's armor. "The drowned Minibot's a femme?" Tracks ground out, one word at a time.

"Yes," Swoop answered him simply.

"Yes," Jazz said to Ratchet in stereo with Swoop, then continued, "but only after you get her in her root mode if possible. And do what you have to, to keep her in it." He contemplated the small form. Thoughtfully, he said, "We have no way to know what weapons she has, or how likely she is to use them."

"Give me a groon. Better yet, go on about what needs done today and I'll call for you when she's able to talk to you." Ratchet was back to work on her other three tires.

Mirage immediately started moving for the door; Jazz followed a few steps behind. As Mirage cleared the door, he noticed Jazz had stopped. He almost turned to look back when he heard Ratchet admonish the saboteur and acting commander for lingering past his welcome, still commanding officer of the med bay. Mirage kept walking. _He is worried about Prowl,_ he thought. _They are good friends, definitely the logical choice for Prowl to suffer to share his quarters, if we must take in more here,_ he thought, crediting the rumor-mill with one correct deduction of late, _closest in rank and longest associate. Although whoever came up with the idea that Starrunner is a long-lost agent of ours must have had some very high-quality catalyst. I will petition Prowl to approve Bluestreak to move in with me, then my room is full and Perceptor's has an opening. I do not want an unknown sharing my quarters._

-X-X-X-

It was almost evening when Swoop walked unhesitatingly into the command office. "Him Ratchet say come," he said before turning and leaving. Mirage was about to speak to Jazz when he heard movement in the inner office and deduced that Swoop's voice had carried well enough. He stood as the inner door opened and fell in beside his colleague. They walked in silence to the repair bay.

Jazz paused on the way in, standing near the table on which Prowl lay.

"Has he been on-line?" he asked. Mirage couldn't tell any difference in Prowl, but that didn't mean Ratchet and Swoop hadn't been working on him, too.

"No, Jazz, not yet," Swoop answered, "him Ratchet say probably tonight; that big part of why him Ratchet resting now."

Mirage spoke briefly with Tracks, who seemed to be concerned that Ratchet had left Swoop to watch over their patients. Mirage did his best to reassure him: "Ratchet will work himself to stasis before he will leave you in hands that might harm you. You know that, Tracks. He has been working without a respite since you were brought in, do not begrudge him a bit of recharge." Tracks seemed satisfied, but still watched Swoop closely. Mirage and Jazz approached the newcomer, sitting up on one of the recovery tables along the wall.

Swoop was tinkering with something that looked like a signal inhibitor. "This keep you in root-mode."

The little black robot scowled up at the Dinobot, light-colored optics framed by a grim expression.

Mirage was concerned. This stranger was not constructed like anyone he'd ever met, having gaps between her dermal plates as if she were unfinished, delicate internals and alt-mode parts exposed without regard for normal Cybertronian aesthetics. Mirage scanned for faction markings and saw none. Looking closer, he noted that the surfaces which would have been the most likely locations for badges were among those that looked recently-repaired. _Is that a coincidence that her badging is gone?_ he wondered.

Jazz tried to break the ice. He stepped closer to the stranger's repair berth, smiling warmly. "Hey there," he offered gently, switching to an informal Cybertronian from the local language as he continued, "is Swoop treatin' you all right, now, Cobweb?"

"How do you-" _know her?_ Mirage started to ask, but stopped to watch, grateful that no one else seemed to notice that he had spoken.

The nearly-white optics focused slowly on Jazz. The scowl shifted, and Mirage got the impression that it was not for any of them, but for some internal problem, possibly an incompletely dried-out processor. The optics dimmed once in affirmation as the head dipped slightly in Jazz's direction.

"He'll do right by ya, as well as he can, and so will Ratchet. As long as you cooperate. I'm Jazz," he held out a hand in greeting, which was met with a slightly questioning look and a ginger grasp of his forearm by their guest, "We met once, if you remember?"

Cobweb gave no indication of agreement or denial.

Jazz continued, "And this is Mirage. Tracks. Swoop," he gestured to each in turn, not releasing her arm as he directed her attention. "Bluestreak. Prowl. Skids. That pile of scrap there," he said fondly, indicating the work table where a set of processors and a spark chamber supported by a power supply and regulator lay amid shiny new parts of an airframe, "is Starrunner." Jazz watched carefully for any sign of recognition from his target.

He was not disappointed. The minimalist faceplates slowly shed the look of patient indifference for one of relief. Cobweb returned Jazz's grip firmly, and met his optics again. She was questioning him, silently.

"Starscream meant to finish him off, but Sunny rolled off him, trying not to crush him, and I got a few good shots in." Jazz waited a beat to see if he would get a response; Cobweb returned her gaze to Starrunner's table.

_How am I going to get the whole story from Jazz?_ Mirage wondered, watching them, _There must be a lot he has neglected to tell me._ Then, another idea hit him, _I am asking the wrong mech! Prowl as XO controls the information disseminated here, and if Prowl told Jazz to keep a thing under his helmet, Soundwave could not pry it from him._

-X-X-X-

_Well, she hasn't offered to resist anything yet,_ Jazz thought. He found the look on her faceplates to be a sad one, and wondered if seeing Starrunner like that might not be the same to their guest as seeing Optimus or Prowl down was to him. Thinking it probably was similar, worse because they were programmed as Decepticons and she was seeing her friend, maybe even her creation, incapacitated in an enemy camp, Jazz shifted to holding her hand and perched on a stool Ratchet must have been working from earlier. "I bet Starscream exaggerated his success," he said, drawing out the Cybertronian words.

Cobweb turned sharply to look at him, grasping his hand shakily. She responded with a burst of rapid, accented Cybertronian.

_That's nothing Shockwave ever programmed,_ Jazz thought, shaking his head, but smiling warmly. "That was just too fast for my audios today." He laughed a little, trying to get her to relax in his presence. He used the informal Cybertronian again, "I'm out of practice in our language, anyway," and switched to the local language: "We left Cybertron thousands of vorns ago," as if that were a factor, "Say again, please?"

Slowly, in more formal Cybertronian, she repeated her question, "You-" collective plural, "-are rebuilding Starrunner?"

Jazz adjusted the distance of his stool, still close enough to speak conversationally with Cobweb but far enough to keep much of his field from impinging on hers in case she was inclined to be definite about her personal space. "Yeah, we are. He's a good spark to have around."

The compliment was well-received, so he knew Cobweb did have the English translation subroutine. Cobweb lay back onto her berth, relaxing her grip on Jazz's hand but maintaining that contact. She seemed to smile slightly.

Jazz was about to ask her what happened to her, how the mutiny went bad, when he realized she was off-line, recharging trustingly.

_At least she isn't trying to fight us,_ he thought, finding the little fingers awkward to disengage and choosing to sit with her in medical as long as Swoop would allow.

-X-X-X-

Cobweb was approaching, Starrunner could tell: the sense of Cobweb's life, of his spark burning, grew more immediate. Being without access to sensors of any kind since he was removed from Jazz's connections after their journey into the Nemesis, Starrunner had little to punctuate the otherwise impenetrable quiet of stasis. This being his second time, bodiless, he was serene in his knowledge that it was temporary. After all, Number Four assured him so.

The feeling that equated to _Cobweb_ receded somewhat, withdrawing to a distance not so far as he had been throughout Starrunner's previous periods of drifting.

At that new distance, Cobweb was in a fight for his life, Starrunner became convinced. Growing alarm, balanced by grim determination, culminated in a barely controlled panic, followed by searing pain, then blankness. Not death, Starrunner was certain, but unconsciousness.

Starrunner drifted, relieved that Cobweb was still alive, now hoping actively for a new body from which to be effective in the universe. _I can't even ask about him,_ he lamented.

Then, after another inestimable period of time, the presence grew very near, as near as before Starrunner's flight from the Decepticon base. Starrunner became convinced that Cobweb was physically with him, and hoped beyond hope that it was the case that Cobweb had joined him at the Autobot base and not that someone had stolen his spark back to the Decepticons. With nothing else to focus on, Starrunner was acutely aware of any change in his sense of Cobweb's presence. Merely there, at first, for an indeterminate time; then on alert, not frightened, but watchful; then profoundly relieved for a moment, retreating to merely there.

Starrunner drifted again in the placid timelessness of stasis.

Cobweb's presence came and went. Starrunner was glad that he never felt alarm from his friend, and started to think he was able to count days through Cobweb's changes in status. He started to try to count the 'merely there' periods, thinking they were recharge cycles, and the other periods, in which Cobweb's presence was changeable, as periods of activity, 'night' versus 'day'. Cobweb was only alarmed once, and Starrunner regretted not being able to interact, to address whatever caused the alarm; Cobweb was sad many times, only briefly each, as if he had thought of something grim and wrenched his mind from it; always there was an undercurrent of relief from him when he was active.

Seemingly without cause, Starrunner found he had sensors again. He thought he had optics to power, and did so, looking out at the world. The view was from a truly bizarre angle.

Swoop and Cobweb were looking back at him.

"Why can't I move to look at you?" he asked, that being his greatest wish in that moment, to adjust his view to better perceive them. His vocalization was strained, and his control of his vocalizer was minimal, but his audios picked up the words clearly as he tried to speak them.

Swoop grinned. "Worked!" he chirped happily. "Starrunner, this set-up only temporary. Her Cobweb wanted to ask opinion-"

Cobweb cut in, vocalizing at a low decibel, as Starrunner was used to hearing him: "Starrunner, can you hear me?"

Starrunner felt trapped by the form he currently had, but was still glad to hear and see and vocalize. "Yes," he answered his friend, "and it is good to see you, Cobweb! You said you'd never join the Autobots."

Cobweb looked briefly at Swoop, who looked both amused and uncomfortable. He met Starrunner's optics, having to crane his neck at an odd angle to do so squarely, "I haven't," he answered, "it's complicated. I'm not a prisoner. When you are rebuilt, I'll tell you what happened," he promised, which made Starrunner happy, "but the priority is your new frame. I am not going to let them put you in it without you seeing it first. It's not what you had."

Somehow, Starrunner's view was shifting without his willing it. He understood that his optics - he wasn't feeling anything that could be called a head or a face - were being lifted by someone else, and the edge of metal at the base of his skewed vision remained. He identified it as the lip of a medical tray, and assumed Ratchet was moving it around since he could see they were definitely in the repair facility at the crashed Ark. His audio perception of the room did not shift with the movement of the optics, and he deduced he was connected to disparate limited sensors to allow Cobweb to ease his conscience about something.

That something came into view, and Cobweb stood near it. "It is as close to your first body as we could make using Autobot transformation tech," he said.

With Cobweb standing beside it for scale, Starrunner could tell it was larger than before, but the inanimate face was certainly his own, as if he were looking into a mirror that made his remembered self only look larger. The wings were folded down as his were -as they had been before they were destroyed,he reminded himself, habit making his former frame a ghost in his perception, filling in around what he understood were disembodied optics. Starrunner could see the main structure was noticeably larger. "Can I," he began, then changed his approach, "Thank you all. It looks... May I ...?" he was unsure how to frame the desire to be animate again.

Ratchet was the one moving his tray around - Starrunner heard his laugh and perceived the wobble of his own optics on the tray that corresponded with that chuckle. "I told you, this sparklet's not so proud as to turn it down."

Cobweb's gaze shifted, and Starrunner understood he was looking now at Ratchet. "You did," he agreed, then again met Starrunner's optics to ask, "What default color do you prefer your optics have?"

It was Swoop's turn to laugh. Ratchet grumbled.

Starrunner hadn't thought about it before, his optics had always been red, and he'd adjusted their nominal current to give them as much blue as he could, which was only a purplish tinge. Cobweb's were still as pale as ever, and Starrunner remembered an early discussion they'd had wherein Cobweb admonished him that red burned less energy at the same sensory level, and so was more efficient. In a camp where all the mechs had blue optics, why wouldn't he want the same? He surprised himself: "The same red as I had, if you can make it so," he vocalized. Cobweb seemed pleased, as if it were a concession to him in some way. Starrunner continued, "but with more conscious control, if it's possible."

Ratchet did not sound as grudging as Starrunner expected him to when he replied, "As much control as possible, aye."

"You Starrunner go back off-line for a while," Swoop said gently, no longer in Starrunner's limited view, "and next time, see from own optics, free to move."

Starrunner wanted to answer in the affirmative, but found he was already disconnected from the simple sound generator.

The optics followed, but Swoop left him connected to the audio sensors. The work in the bay continued, and Starrunner listened closely, having nothing at all to distract him. Cobweb's spark-presence was happy and strong, Ratchet was no different to him than he was to Swoop, and Swoop was as happy as ever. Starrunner found it funny that Swoop insisted on referring to Cobweb as 'her', not having heard that pronoun out of a Cybertronian, as far as he remembered. He wondered if it were another speech oddity of Swoop's, or if the English was so different from the Cybertronian to make it apply to Cobweb somehow. The three of them moved about the area, Ratchet overseeing their work on Starrunner's form while he himself worked with someone else on another project. Starrunner picked up from the conversation between Swoop and Cobweb that Cobweb wasn't finished with Starrunner's root-mode flight capability yet, but that it was at a point where the hardware was complete. Cobweb said something about letting Starrunner upload the files later and Swoop eagerly agreed.

Others came through the repair bay. Starrunner recognized Talker who sounded like he was in for a check-up on an old repair. As Talker - _Bluestreak_ - was leaving, Prowl came in for a similar visit with Ratchet. Swoop and Cobweb kept working. Apparently off Ratchet's radar, Bluestreak spoke with Swoop in Starrunner's hearing: "Wow Swoop is that the new mech you've been building up?" he didn't pause to let Swoop answer, "He looks really good at least as good as he must have looked before that first time we met him he'd been through the Pit that day no doubt about it."

"Awwk! Yes," Swoop answered, finding a break in which he could answer Bluestreak, "this last of plating. Him Starrunner test out systems soon, need to walk and talk and get used to new body."

"We should take him down to the galley," Cobweb offered, "he'll want to go there, and it's far enough he'll have to coordinate all the gyros involved in motivity."

_As if I wouldn't want to exercise them all, if they let me stay here to do it!_ Starrunner thought indignantly. Cobweb was the only entity in the universe Starrunner knew who could make him feel unreasonably angry.

Disembodied, Cobweb could not know his effect on Starrunner.

Swoop agreed brightly, "Right! Easy way to see if fuel intake system sealed is to let him Starrunner try to use it."

That did not sound like as much fun to Starrunner as Swoop seemed to think.

When they made the transfer of his connections, Starrunner was treated to the sounds of everything literally clicking into place: the audios he'd been attached to were to be his own, moved into their new housing along with the parts that truly made him an individual. In their proper place, his audio sensors returned sounds more richly to his processors than they had while free, and deepened his perception such that he could estimate how far away Ratchet's current work was - now with one called Tracks since Prowl had left. Starrunner was able to follow that conversation as well as he could follow Swoop's; Cobweb was characteristically quiet, offering input only occasionally. He was finishing the programming that would let Starrunner consciously control his new optics: being red by default, they couldn't go completely blue or completely yellow, but they would have a good range. Swoop seemed impressed when he asked Cobweb what the limits were and he answered, silently, by showing him. Swoop whistled appreciatively, saying only, "Wo-ow."

When each new connection was made to his processors, Starrunner eagerly explored it. That was okay for the connections to his damage sensor net, his thermal regulation system, and his new auxiliary processor that contained subroutines for transformation and control of the output of his new optics. He almost kicked Swoop when his right leg came on-line: "Whoa!" Swoop called, jumping back, "Wait!" and Starrunner held that leg steady, now understanding that it was a leg, and experiencing the difference between that type of connection and the others. His right foot followed - he hadn't expected it to be separate from the rest of his leg - then left leg and foot.

All those things had been unconscious in his old form for as long as he could remember.

"Patience, friend," Cobweb said softly in Cybertronian near his audio, only for him, using that special word for friend that he'd never heard anyone else use, nor heard Cobweb use for another, even Astrotrain, "you may not remember, but you've been through this before."

He was starting to feel frustrated that he could not answer him, when he found he had optics. Those he did power up.

"Hi there!" Swoop said brightly. Kneeling in front of him, Swoop's crest was the first thing Starrunner saw clearly. Looking down, he saw Swoop working to connect the rest of his limbs, knowing the addition of sensation with each audible snap. Each arm and hand: fascinated now, Starrunner watched Swoop make a connection, and felt it immediately followed by the addition of sensation in the associated member. He flexed the fingers of his right hand, then his left.

Cobweb was at his side, looking up at him happily.

"Thank you both," he said as soon as his vocalizer was available. His voice sounded a little scratchy, but he liked the new tone of it. It pleased him that it was similar enough that there was no feeling of dissociation when he heard it, but it was not quite the same. _I am not the same,_ he thought. _It fits._ "It fits," he said to them, of his new form.

Ratchet was walking over to see how they fared, having just driven Tracks out of the area. "Don't be too thankful yet, Sparklet," he advised, "you haven't tried to move very far in it."

Starrunner thought the look Swoop gave Ratchet was defensive.

"Him Starrunner be fine, Ratchet," Swoop said, standing up and closing Starrunner's new chestplate definitively. It was one he could call his own: narrow compared to the one he borrowed briefly from Red Alert, but definitely air-worthy, black and solid. "Me Swoop and her Cobweb will be with him, work kinks out."

Rather than crowd him, Ratchet stayed a few paces behind Swoop. "All right, then, Swoop, step back from him and let Starrunner take his first step."

Starrunner suddenly wasn't ready.

Swoop stepped back, keeping one hand out toward him. "You Starrunner ready," he said. It didn't sound like a question.

Starrunner felt himself sway as suddenly each gyro in his stabilization system asserted itself.

At his elbow, Cobweb said, "It's alright, friend, you've done it all before."

"You too, Cobweb," Ratchet said, and Starrunner thought it actually more kindly than he had been to Swoop.

Surprising him, Cobweb stepped away as Ratchet directed. Starrunner had thought he wouldn't.

Determinedly, Starrunner stepped forward with his right foot.

Looking down, it was his left that responded, moving forward smoothly.

Cobweb beamed, "You didn't fall."

"Good," Ratchet was saying.

"Yay!" Swoop crowed in delight.

Trying to reverse the process and pull his left foot back, it was his right that responded, widening his stance awkwardly. Starrunner held his hands out to either side of him for balance and brought his legs back under him slowly, sensors and motivators mismatched. "Swoop, it's working, but something's not right. My right and left are reversed."

Swoop looked disappointed.

"Can you recalibrate it yourself?" Cobweb asked.

Identical in thought process, Ratchet was saying, "First try to handle that internally, smart aft."

Momentarily turning his attention completely inward, he realigned his habits based on the new perception, and suddenly felt much more stable. "I think so!" he answered them.

"Do that where you can," Ratchet said, "but let Swoop know about any spurious sensor readings or unintentional movements." Ratchet made optic contact with Cobweb, "We've used some recent Decepticon tech with ours, and there's no way to be certain that won't cause a problem." He returned his gaze to Starrunner, "The hardware required for flying in root mode is pervasive - that sensor suite's output overlaps others. If you feel a sudden urge to fly through the hallways here, don't. They are too irregular and you'll need a lot of practice, outside, before you can do that without injury."

"It's great just to be able to stand here!" Starrunner said, looking down at his new frame and feeling acutely aware of every sensor input, the feeling of each gyro spinning, the vibration of even the distant air-handlers through the deck and into his own plating. The nothingness of stasis retreated into the distance of his memory, farther away than flying to Oregon, than flying over China, even farther removed from his present state than his first flight outside Shockwave's compound on Cybertron. "Flying sounds far from my capacity right now."

Ratchet snorted. "Just keep saying that, and let flying be at least as far away as the main entrance."

-X-X-X-

Swoop was amazed at how things were going. As Starrunner practiced simply walking, Swoop had to remind himself to be watchful without being overly protective. _Him Starrunner is me Swoop's master work,_ he thought, tut-tutting happily as Starrunner made for the door from the repair bay into the Ark hallways. Starrunner moved slowly, in fits and starts, making a few more movements in each set than the last. By the time they reached the door, he'd almost evened out his gate. Slow, but steady.

Starrunner turned at the waist to look back into the room. "Cobweb?" he asked, "Are you coming with us?"

Cobweb was sitting on a stool at Ratchet's side, looking at a set of circuit boards. She looked up at Starrunner and flashed her optics once in negation, then smiled encouragingly. "Swoop can bring you back when you're ready."

"Yes," Swoop agreed, motioning for Starrunner to continue, almost but not quite steering him with his arm across his shoulders. "You Starrunner get around on own now, me Swoop just here to catch if fall."

Turning back in the direction of their progress, his balance was imperfect and he swayed against Swoop's outstretched arm a tick. "Thank you, Swoop," he said quietly.

"It me Swoop's pleasure," Swoop answered brightly. "Now, march!" he mimicked Ratchet.

Starrunner laughed - his first with his new vocalizer - and obediently started putting one foot in front of the other, more or less steadily.

He mostly remembered the way to the galley; Swoop only had to correct his navigation of the corridors once in their walk. Swoop noticed Starrunner getting tired, limping a bit as if there were a problem with his right leg. "What wrong?" he asked his patient, steadying him as they approached the threshold of the galley: there was a lip to that door since it had been an inner bulkhead, a pressure door the crew of the ship could fall back to if the hull were breached, sealing in some heat and air. The door itself was long gone, scavenged to repair a residential room of the ship, but the track it had run on remained, and posed a trip hazard to anyone caught unaware. "What make you Starrunner favor right side?"

"I'm not sure," Starrunner answered slowly, "it suddenly feels less responsive, from my chest down."

"Want me Swoop check it out now, or return to medical?"

"No, let's go on. The thought of refueling the usual way appeals to me very much. It's been so long! Normal things will be nice."

Swoop thought that desire sounded perfectly reasonable. He supported Starrunner's lagging right side as they stepped into the galley.

At a table not far from the entrance, Sunstreaker appeared to be holding forth to his brother and Bluestreak. Swoop imagined the surly bot must be regaling them with a tall tale couched as recollection, standing up to lend emphasis to some wild claim.

"Sunstreaker!" Starrunner sounded relieved, happy to see the fighter as if he hadn't expected to at all, "It's good to see you." All optics were on Starrunner, who seemed completely unconcerned by that; they continued their slow trek into the galley, now with the goal of that one occupied table. "They told me everyone was repaired."

"Hi there," Bluestreak said cheerfully, "it's good to see you free and clear again we heard Ratchet had approval to rebuild you you look really good Swoop you must be proud what an accomplishment!"

Swoop couldn't help but return Bluestreak's purely joyful smile. "Awwk! Aye. Thank you Bluestreak."

"Hello," Starrunner answered Bluestreak amicably enough, "I remember you."

"Oh yeah sorry about the knee you really startled me that night I thought you said you couldn't transform and-"

"We remember you, too," Sideswipe said, and Swoop thought Sunstreaker flinched, "and you don't have to worry about that happening again. You've earned a place here."

Starrunner looked seriously at Sideswipe. "Thank you very much for saying so."

Sunstreaker cycled air awkwardly. Swoop wondered what the problem was with him today. _Him Sunstreaker not center of attention this minute, that probably did it,_ he thought, not derisively, merely an observation of fact.

Sideswipe chuckled. Bluestreak elbowed him.

Sunstreaker was truly off his game for some reason; Swoop would have expected some prickly comment from him well before now. Sideswipe's immediate welcome of Starrunner was not outside the realm of expectation, but silence from his twin was uncharacteristic.

"Starrunner," Sunstreaker said, so low it was barely a vocalization.

He smiled, and Swoop wondered what he was up to. "You piece of slag!" he finally added.

Swoop felt something in the air shift, but couldn't pinpoint what it might have been. Sunstreaker looked like his normal surly self again, the one Ratchet was always chasing out of medical.

"You weren't even good for spare parts, the last time I saw you," the yellow twin continued. "How's the new frame shaping up?"

Swoop smiled with relief at such a warm welcome for a former Decepticon from the hardest case in the Ark, and carefully brought Starrunner the rest of the way to their table.

Starrunner held his right hand out to Sunstreaker in greeting. Swoop didn't think there was any way Sunstreaker would take it, as if they were brothers-in-arms.

Sunstreaker did, though. Even his twin looked impressed, to Swoop's optics.

"It will take some time to grow accustomed to it," Starrunner answered, "but Swoop and Ratchet saved my life," he lowered his head and looked briefly at his nurse, "I'm grateful."

"It needful," Swoop said, "you Starrunner good mech, bring rare intel to Autobot leaders, already show worth in fight."

"Yeah," Sunstreaker added, releasing Starrunner's hand and looking uncomfortably down at the table, "you saved my sorry aft. Uh- Thank you for that." His tone wasn't begrudging as much as it was pained. He changed the topic: "I don't know if you've uh met my brother, here, Sideswipe," he gestured to Sideswipe, "and his- our close friend, Bluestreak," same motion, toward Bluestreak. "Not sure if you got his name that night he- you- that night you two met." Sunstreaker looked absolutely out of his depth for no reason Swoop could imagine.

_Does it really bother him Sunstreaker so much that him Starrunner save him Sunstreaker?_

"I- uh- I've gotta go," Sunstreaker faltered, optics focused somewhere between Starrunner and Swoop, "I've gotta get this slag ready for duty in a few breems. Uh- see you around," he said, and quickly stepped away from them and out of the room, nearly tripping over the disused track in his haste to pass the entrance.

Starrunner's new faceplates did not lack for expression. He looked concerned, and confused. "Is he really so bothered by me?" he looked from Swoop to Bluestreak to Sideswipe, unsure which one might have an answer.

"I think he is," Sideswipe said earnestly, "but not by you personally. He's bothered by the idea that someone besides me would sacrifice themselves for his sake. He's freaked out by that. No problem with you."

Starrunner made to sit down, and almost missed the bench. "Oh," he said.

Swoop helped him get arranged on the seat, then went to draw a round of sustenance grade energon for him and his charge. "You two want refills?" he cast back to the table as he filled a second cube.

"No thanks, Swoop," Sideswipe said.

"I could stand a fresh one," Bluestreak told him, then turned to Starrunner, now seated across the table from him. "Sideswipe's right Sunstreaker doesn't know how to act with you or anyone else who's ever really nice to him since he was built for war which is rare among Autobots most of us were built for other things and just had to apply them to fighting so he doesn't know-"

Swoop saw that Starrunner was no longer following Bluestreak. He interrupted the flow of words by setting a cube of energon in front of the prattling mech. "Here!" he said brightly. Sitting beside Starrunner in the silence that created, he handed one to him, keeping one for himself. "You Starrunner sip slowly, monitor for signs of leaking."

"Do you really think the internal seals could leak Swoop? Wow that would be bad I mean what a mess with unprocessed energon maybe running inside you but outside the normal routes that would be so strange and could surely cause a lot of problems for him right?"

Starrunner's hand on his cube of fuel shook slightly and he hesitated.

"You Bluestreak maybe not helping right now," Swoop suggested, watching Starrunner's face as he took his first sip of fuel.

Sideswipe stood up slowly. "Yeah, you're right Swoop," he set his hand on Bluestreak's shoulder, "let's leave them to their testing of systems, Blue. You overwhelm my processors sometimes, so you may be too much for Starrunner right now, with every sensor new and all." He paused to look again at Starrunner, while Bluestreak placidly extricated himself from the table and bench. He held out his hand to Starrunner, "Like I said, you've earned a place here, whatever your name really is or was, and the three of us will stick up for you with anyone who tries to say otherwise." Hand out, looking for the same gesture his twin had exchanged with Starrunner.

Starrunner looked up at him, gratitude written all over his face. "Thank you," he reiterated, shaking Sideswipe's hand.

"No, we thank you." Sideswipe moved their clasped hands to punctuate his words, "I was there, I saw what you did for Sunstreaker. You not only saved his life, you kept him in the fight. I've had to take on all three Seekers myself, before, and believe me, three on two we can handle pretty well, but three on one? That's Decepticon fun." One last motion and he released Starrunner's hand. "Now, you get up to speed for us, before we need to put you to work like that again." He smiled encouragingly, "With a little practice, you'll be just as good at jet-judo as either of us, and better able to catch those fraggers." Bluestreak and he departed.

"What did he mean by all that?" Starrunner asked Swoop.

Swoop sipped his own drink, buying a few processor cycles to think on that. "Me Swoop not know," he admitted, "only know that summary of you Starrunner's battle very good. Apt. It good for you Starrunner that them Lambos like you Starrunner. No hard time, no pranks, and other hard cases in Ark think twice before picking you Starrunner for target."

"Good," Starrunner agreed.

"Yes," Swoop replied, just to let Starrunner know he heard.

They sipped their fuel in silence for a while, not really looking at each other, each in his own thoughts.

"Swoop," Starrunner started. Paused. "Can I ask you something?"

_Never a more useless question!_ Swoop thought, hearing it in his processor in Ratchet's voice. "Anything," he said aloud.

"Why doesn't this body have the Autobot symbol on it anywhere I can see it? Are they only on my back, or exposed in my alt mode?"

That was not in the realm of possibilities as Swoop might have imagined Starrunner's first question. "No, no marks yet. You Starrunner not able to choose," he answered, "now that you Starrunner alert, me Swoop make badges if you Starrunner want."

"Oh," Starrunner said, sounding somehow both disappointed and relieved. "It's not etched in somewhere I just can't see?"

"What?" Swoop started, then remembered what he and Ratchet had deduced about Starrunner's original markings, why they never found the extra metal they expected. "No, never!" he exclaimed, shifting to look squarely at Starrunner. He carefully disengaged the large emblem from his own chest, to show Starrunner its modular nature. "This, cosmetic, temporary. When war over, we Autobots plan to take symbols off, go back to living, no more fighting to live."

Starrunner took the bit of extra plating from Swoop reverently, then looked him in the optics. "_When_?" he said, thoughtfully. He scowled a little. "Really?" He looked away, and back again. "I've been through a lot to get here. I don't ever want to forget what it meant to me to get to you Autobots. This," he gestured at the Ark in general, "you," Cybertronian, plural, "are freedom. Self-direction. Purposes that don't destroy or enslave others." He looked down at his chest, his arms and shoulders, the red of his optics reflecting brightly off his clean black plating. "Here," he laid his right hand on a spot in his chest, over his spark core, "here, I want it etched. In red. So it can't be taken from me easily, can't fall off in a fight, can't be lost or misplaced. In color so it can't be mistaken for scratched plating."

Swoop tried to protest. Starrunner overrode him. "Please, Swoop? Will you do that? This one thing, I want on this form. Make it mine, my choice. The Decepticon symbol was etched into my first body, five places, before I ever knew. Sure, I'll wear badges like this one, on my wings so I can take them off when I need to be truly disguised. In my alt-mode, this place should be covered," he waited for Swoop's nod, "so it's truly mine. In my root mode, I am only one thing: clearly Cybertronian, and I want just as clearly to be known an Autobot."

Swoop nodded again, and replaced his own badge where it belonged. "Aye," he vocalized, subdued, "and him Ratchet blame me Swoop. No Autobot marking permanent. War not permanent. Faction not permanent."

"He'll understand," Starrunner said with conviction. "Ratchet knows what it means to give up what comes easy to do what is right for you."

Reluctantly: "If that how you Starrunner feel about it, me Swoop make it so."

Starrunner's voice grew hard as he said, "When this war is over, I don't want anyone to mistake me for a former Decepticon."

Swoop gave him a questioning look. Starrunner continued, "We'll take them in, those who can suppress their worst natures, those that stayed with Megatron out of fear or uncertainty, and I want all of them to know they had a choice, they always had a choice, and failed to make it. Living on after the war, on mercy they would not have shown, it's best if someone, especially one who looks most like one of theirs, reminds them. They didn't go out of their way to earn their freedom before, failed to take the risks it requires. They have to earn their freedom every day after. Every day in the peacetime, they have to work and cooperate in a civilization that strives not for efficiency, but for progress and peace and prosperity without coercion."

Swoop whistled. "That speech, worthy of him Prime. You Starrunner looking to take over?"

Starrunner relaxed, leaned forward on his elbows on the table, and smiled. "No, Swoop, nothing like that. I- well, I just feel strongly that Cobweb is wrong, that staying in the Decepticon ranks because it's logical, for self-preservation, it's wrong. And someone, like me, has to show them that, make sure it isn't forgotten that a despot like Megatron can't hold power if no one allows himself to be part of the structure that power needs to survive. If all the maintenance workers, for instance, if they all left the Decepticon ranks, not only would the simple number decline but what was left would likely fall apart from lack of maintenance. Non-combatants, they are, but they are essential, as a group, to the rest."

Swoop looked at him skeptically. "So simple?"

"Really, Swoop. I have that faith. If you and Ratchet left, how long do you think these Autobots would survive the war?"

Swoop thought about it. He had to concede: "Months. Maybe a year if lucky, less, if him Devastator active."

"Exactly!" Starrunner took a good mouthful of his energon, instruction to sip momentarily forgotten. He seemed to relish it.

Swoop let Starrunner indulge, internal Ratchet scolding both of them, while he thought about that. He changed the subject: "How you Starrunner feel, fueling? Intake working right?"

Starrunner dimmed his optics in the affirmative, taking an even longer draw on his cube.

Swoop agreed to look into Starrunner's wish, "Me Swoop find out about etching." At Starrunner's happy smile: "Don't get too excited! Me Swoop never etch live metal before, not sure how to make color show, color stay bright, and make not hurt."

"I'm sure whatever method you come up with will be fine."

Swoop only looked at him.

"I have faith in you, too, Swoop."


End file.
